


The Fall of the House of Black

by palavapeite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bigotry, Bigotry & Prejudice, Depictions of Physical Torture, Institutionalised Genophobia, M/M, Non-Sexual Slavery, Psychological Torture, Pureblood Politics, Sexual Repression, Slow Burn, UST, Violence, implications of mental illness, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-30
Updated: 2011-05-30
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2104404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palavapeite/pseuds/palavapeite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU – Voldemort won the war in 1960, driving Albus Dumbledore and his remaining supporters into exile and proclaiming himself dictator for the following five years. In the emerging bigoted, emotionally inhibited and sexually repressed pure-blood society anyone opposing the Dark Lord lost their status of legal subject and was sold off as property. </p><p>Twenty years later, in early 1980, an amnesty bill returns freedom to those enslaved after the war. A faint scent of revolution is in the air and Sirius, newly ascended Head of the Noble House of Black, finds he must make decisions when he is given twelve werewolf slaves to compensate for the sudden loss of readily available employees.</p><p>Warnings: There is some seriously NOT fluffy stuff in this story. It's angsty and the pureblood society depicted is nothing short of fucked-up. Triggers and touchy issues include slavery, bigotry, violence and torture <s>and bastard!James</s>. (Not saying it's horror and terror all the way through, but be warned anyway.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. La Fontaine du Sang

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote and posted this story on Livejournal in early 2011. For the sake of this repost, I have straightened out some typos and tweaked the occasional formulation, although "revised" might be too strong a word. 
> 
> When I started out, I estimated it'd be around 30 pages long. Well, I was wrong. My thanks back then went, and still go to [nerakrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose) for the beta and the unwavering support when everything was really stuck (twice), and for a hilariously inappropriate supply of fake Facebook conversations between the characters of this fic that still to this day sit on my external HD for when I need a cheering up. <3 
> 
> All chapter titles except the epilogue are borrowed (alas, without personal permission...) from Charles Baudelaire. No, I don't actually speak French, but I know enough to be pretentious. Title of the epilogue is taken from Clint Mansell's musical piece.

The sound of flat heels echoed through the spacious, marble entrance hall of the tall building on Way the Lind, the noblest area of Wizarding London. The only thing that rang even louder in the silence was the sound of the grand entrance doors being pulled shut by invisible hands as the visitor made his way across the hall.

“I'm expected,” he stated curtly to the curtseying servant waiting for him behind one of the massive, green pillars framing the bottom of the wide staircase. She nodded and motioned him to ascend as she backed off, keeping her eyes directed at the floor.

With swift steps, the man made his way up the stairs, turning left when the staircase divided into two different directions, and never once slowing down as he walked down the corridor on the first floor. His dark robes were billowing behind his slender legs and he pulled off his gloves before he came to a halt in front of the last, ornamented door of the corridor and knocked. Somewhere else in the building something crashed and someone screamed, but the man had no time to look displeased about the noise; the door opened and he stepped in.

“I almost thought you were going to be late,” an amused voice greeted him and a smirk appeared on his face as he threw his gloves onto a nearby chair and unbuttoned his robes.

“You should know by now that I am always on time,” he replied and with a chuckle, his hostess rose from her settee on the other side of the room, putting a number of papers onto the table next to it.

“I would have expected you to be caught up in business,” she remarked, cocking her head aside. “Considering that you most certainly have enough of it on your desk as of today.”

He huffed and threw off his coat, stepping over to the small bar where she was pouring them drinks.

“So you knew,” he stated sharply as he accepted his glass of wine with a polite nod. She took a sip of her own drink and shrugged.

“I have been seeing it coming, I'm afraid.” She smiled at his open displeasure and nodded towards the settee she'd been sitting on reading when he'd arrived. “Don't worry, Rodolphus will take care of it. This is only temporary.”

“Temporary is bad enough,” the man scoffed, refusing to sit down when she did. “One should think my father picked the moment of his demise on purpose so he wouldn't have to deal with it...”

“Do I hear complaints from the newly celebrated Black heir?” the woman cackled. “Too much money and power all at once? Really, Sirius... I would have expected better from you.”

“I'm not complaining about the money and the power I've _got_ ,” Sirius corrected his cousin. “I am displeased with how much of the power I had yesterday is gone. Rodolphus better fix this quickly. How could he even have let it happen?”

“Awww, shhh,” Bellatrix soothed her cousin, taking his hand and pulling him down to sit next to her. “You mustn't get so upset, darling.” When he huffed, she shrugged. “It's politics. This concession was necessary, but don't worry, things will change soon. Let them have their amnesty for the time being; it's all under control.”

Sirius emptied his glass and shot his cousin a dark look.

It hadn't been two weeks since he had taken over the entire Black empire from his deceased father, when the Ministry had – for some unfathomable reason – spontaneously granted amnesty to all prisoners of war. Twenty years, the speaker had proclaimed, had been deemed enough and all witches and wizards that had opposed the Dark Lord's regime and had been stripped of all their rights in the aftermath of the war had been returned their status as legal subjects. Meaning the entirety of former bondsmen working for the Black family was suddenly entitled to _payment_. Or rather, those who hadn't immediately _left_ his service were. His workforce had shrunk to roughly seventy per cent of its former size overnight.

“It's not about the money,” Sirius stated sharply, “I can pay them their lousy salary and they can work double to make up for the ones that have left. What I need is working hands in my house. I had to fire all my household staff down to my valet and then Obliviate them more than a little carefully so they don't get cocky and blabber. I cannot -,” he emphasised tetchily, “- have personal staff whose life does not depend on me.”

Bellatrix nodded, clicking her fingernails against her glass. Her cousin might have been new to his duties as head of the Black family, but some things did not need to be learned if one was born a pure-blood heir. Regarding employees in the various branches of family business the specifics of payment were a matter of current politics, but there could never be free servants in the main residence of the Black heir. Trustworthy servants were a good thing, servants that you owned and could do with as you wished without consequences were a better thing. Loyalty best began with the fact that the merest shadow of a doubt put an end to a servant's life.

“Yes. Unless you own them they're no good,” Bellatrix agreed thoughtfully. “Have you considered employing creatures to bridge the gap? They could do as long as this ridiculously liberal movement is going on...”

“I have some of mother's house-elves over to help the couple I keep in the kitchen. They do fine for cleaning the main rooms of the manor, but I don't trust them. They're disgusting, sneaking little scumbags... I don't want to be followed around by my personal house-elf valet. That's Regulus's style,” Sirius spat and pointed his wand at the bottle of wine that came zooming across the room. Watching as he refilled her glass as well as his own, Bellatrix pursed her lips in contemplation.

“I see what you mean,” she nodded. “I don't trust them either... apart from the fact that they're ugly as mud. I've been using werewolves for minor jobs, though. They're all right for simple tasks and good with manual labour.”

“I don't see how they'd be any more trustworthy than house-elves,” Sirius replied flatly and Bellatrix shrugged.

“They're easier on the eye; dress them up and they might pass as human as long as people don't look too closely. And they're cheap. They don't have to be fed separately; just give them leftovers from the kitchen. They don't need any special facilities apart from some place to sleep and wash and transform once a month. They're not completely stupid, as long as you train them properly, but they're also not smart enough to actually constitute a threat, since their minds are not human.”

She looked at her cousin and made an inviting gesture with her hand.

“I could give you a couple. As a present.”

“As a present? Bella, you hand out _presents_?” Sirius smirked and Bellatrix scoffed.

“I suppose I do,” she replied, sounding displeased. “I have to get rid of some of mine. For our public image.” When Sirius raised an eyebrow in question, she sniffed disapprovingly. “You know the drill, our household must look 'politically correct' to the onlooker and it seems I _own_ a couple too many of my servants. Rodolphus has asked me to even out the ratio of paid servants and creatures a little, at least until this annoying amnesty matter is out of the world.”

“You speak as if it was bound to be over soon,” Sirius probed and Bellatrix snorted.

“ _Please_. Where do you think this will lead? Lots of slaves suddenly free after twenty years of punishment? They're of course gathering their feeble forces now, somewhere in the underground, planning their great revolution. We'll have a rebellion on our hands in no time, but once that has been taken care of, there won't be any such foolish thing as amnesty ever again. I should say you'll have your bondsmen back by summer... and complete freedom to treat them whichever way you like, too.”

Sirius smirked into his glass of wine. His cousin sounded almost bored by politics, no matter how corrupt they were.

“So this is why Rodolphus hasn't openly opposed the amnesty.”

“Of course. Apart from the fact that he needs to keep face, with the elections coming so soon. He might be nouveau riche, but he's not come down with the last shower. Orders come from the Dark Lord himself. The liberals at the Ministry will be given a chance and fail miserably. That way they won't ever speak up again and we can continue as usual. It's really quite simple.”

She got up and walked over to the bar, where she set down her glass and leaned against the counter. Sirius took a moment to take in her appearance.

Ever since he'd been a child, Bellatrix Black had been his ideal of a woman. She was beautiful, intelligent and powerful. Of the three Black sisters she represented the ultimate perfection of breeding, the elegance of aristocracy. Even when she was young, she had embodied everything the name Black stood for and everyone had seen the potential in her to someday be what Sirius's own mother had become as of late – a Black matriarch, yielding almost unlimited financial, political and societal power. The Dark Lord himself had strengthened Bellatrix's position when it had appeared threatened and he'd lifted her above all other pure-blood women instead.

In all her perfection, Bellatrix had one flaw and it had almost destroyed her future once – when she'd been thirteen it had become clear from the standard examinations that all pure-blood girls took that she was barren and therefore lacked the one currency that would have made her eligible for the most prized marriages available. In a feeble attempt at saving face, her parents had married her to Lestrange instead, whose family was relatively young, compared to pure-blood dynasties like the Blacks or Malfoys. Under the pretence of getting fresh blood into the family, Bellatrix had served as a stepping stone for Lestrange to power. It had been Voldemort himself who had reinstated a humiliated Bellatrix and made her his immediate correspondent as he pulled the country's political strings in the background, having officially stepped back from his office as a totalitarian ruler. Bellatrix was now the Dark Lord's right hand, while her husband was his minion who played the politician in Voldemort's mock-democracy.

Sirius couldn't say that he was displeased. Whenever he met Rodolphus Lestrange, he felt a distinct urge to send the man back to the gutter where he belonged. Sirius himself had been too young to speak up when Bellatrix had been married, otherwise he would have gone and married her himself. He was little impressed by the rumours of her infertility and was convinced that they would have produced an heir. Procreation was still a matter of _blood quality_ besides the standard process of conception potions – and if Lestrange couldn't make an heir with the help of the latter, Sirius could still have succeeded by the power of the former. It wouldn't have taken more than one try to succeed and all parties involved would have been saved the shame of debasing themselves to primitive mating rituals more often than necessary – had only Sirius been the one and not Rodolphus.

He despised Lestrange for having stepped in and prevented what would have been the greatest union after the war: Sirius Black, heir to the Black family, and Bellatrix, its most powerful witch of recent history. Two minds to rule the House of Black.

Lost in thought, Sirius turned the glass between his fingers. Bellatrix paid him no attention, but picked up her wand from the bar and gave it a light flick. A second later, a small, wrinkly house-elf appeared before her, bowing low.

“Bring the spare werewolf unit. They are to be presented to their new owner,” she commanded and Sirius raised an eyebrow when the elf had disappeared again.

“You're serious about that, then?”

“Obviously,” Bellatrix replied curtly. “I have no clue what else to do with them. I suppose killing them for fun is out of the question for the same reason that keeping them is...” she smiled sardonically and winked. “So I can just as well give them to my favourite cousin, who incidentally happens to be in need of a bunch of slave hands... there we are...”

A group of twelve people filed in through the door and got in line alongside the wall. Bellatrix made a sweeping gesture at them and Sirius eyed them warily. They looked human and, with the exception of one, were all male. Their faces and arms bore scars of varying size and shape and on the whole they looked rather torn apart. All of them kept their eyes glued to the ground.

Sirius contemplated his glass for a moment, biting his lip. “I don't know. I suppose for manual labour they'll do. I'd need a valet, though. A personal assistant. Someone to run errands, fetch things when I need them, show guests in, keep my workplace in order...”

“Shouldn't be too difficult,” Bellatrix pondered. “I reckon when it comes to fetching they're comparable to dogs. You could train one. Want them to be able to read?”

“They can read?” Sirius asked and she nodded.

“Some of them. Depends on the age they were bitten at. You wouldn't want one who was bitten too young because they're unstable and they usually die soon anyway. I never get the really young ones and I think Greyback doesn't make any anymore... But then again, you wouldn't want them to be too old when they're bitten either. That just makes them violent and insane.” She paused. “I mean, look at Greyback himself. Mad as a March hare...”

She walked up to the line of werewolves and poked the first one with her wand. He gave a slight jerk, but didn't react otherwise.

“They're nicely trained in domestic basics and obedient... Intelligence varies, obviously, but I guess at least two or three should prove fitting. You could probably figure out quickly which tasks to use them best with and then train them.” She turned to the group. “How many of you can read and write?” All but two raised their hands and Bellatrix looked impressed for a moment. “Well, that's not so bad.” She shrugged at Sirius. “Just put them in a suit and then try them one after the other? If you don't like them, send them back and I'll find some other use for them – what do you say?”

Sirius took a deep breath and looked at the werewolves without much enthusiasm. He wasn't particularly keen on them; he really did not like to employ creatures. But since he was still in the process of working himself into the new routine as the head of the Black empire, he needed servants and couldn't be picky. As a first solution, they would probably do. At least they could keep the manor clean and take care of the garden and simple stuff, which would also make them immediate responsibility of the head house-elf and not himself. He was getting sick of shouting because the elves were too few to keep everything in line as he liked it.

“Send them over this afternoon,” he sighed. “And I'll see what comes of it.”

***

Initially, the idea had been to try all twelve of them for a day each and then settle for the least annoying, but Sirius had given up at werewolf number five and kept the man on for a second and third day. Those days had been filled with business meetings and visitors during which Sirius could not afford lecturing and instructing yet another inexperienced, blundering fool.

At least this one didn't fidget and kept quiet and in the background. He managed to do assigned tasks like getting files, owling letters, picking up and sorting incoming mail, and keeping an eye on clock and timetable without losing his nerve and distracting Sirius from work. His voice was low and quiet, his accent easier than the last one's and, most importantly, he only spoke when spoken to. Accusing him of creativity would have been an exaggeration, but he seemed to be capable of sufficient independent thought to get through his tasks without constantly asking humbly for approval and to have lunch brought up to the office when Sirius was obviously too tangled up in business matters to take a break. When Sirius had ordered him back for another day he had nodded and refrained from mentioning how he didn't mind doing manual labour in the garden.

Sirius scowled. Far from minding it, they all _loved_ gardening, every last sodding one of them. The farther away from the main house, the better. Sirius appreciated his trees and hedges taken care of and understood that running around digging in soil might have been appealing to creatures like werewolves, but he was beginning to lose his patience. This one would stay and _one word about gardening..._

Something in his peripheral vision shifted and caused Sirius to jerk up from the financial report he was reading. Irritated, he looked at the stack of papers his assistant had placed on the edge of his master's desk after removing another. Sirius didn't mind his desk being cleaned, but the werewolf usually had a habit of doing this without attracting attention.

“What?” Sirius snapped and the servant replied quietly.

“I'm very sorry, but Lucius Malfoy just arrived and had himself announced. He wishes to speak to you personally, mylord.”

“Do I have time for this?” Sirius scowled, but set the report aside and grabbed the stack of papers that had just been put onto his desk. It turned out to be recent correspondence with Lucius as well as a couple of faintly relevant reports and tables of figures of business between the Black and Malfoy family. Skipping through the files, Sirius wondered what Lucius wanted this time. He couldn't really send him away, but he also knew that he needed to stand his ground when it came to Malfoy, who was prone to looking down on people who were less experienced than him – and Sirius definitely was. But he was not going to be Lucius's pushover, he knew that much.

“Tell him to wait five minutes; I want to finish this,” he ordered and the werewolf nodded and quietly left the room, closing the door soundlessly behind himself.

Sirius took a deep breath and made sure his desk was clear of incriminating or possibly damaging correspondence or documents. He wasn't going to offer dear Lucius an insight into his business matters. He might have been family in a way, but that didn't mean he could be trusted.

Faint noise was audible from outside and Sirius assumed that Lucius was making a dramatic entrance, but the walls were thick and the door solid oak, which suited Sirius fine, as he despised distracting bustling of servants at work. An eye on the clock, he counted the seconds until the fifth minute had passed.

The door opened and his assistant walked in, limping slightly and looking like he was having trouble keeping himself upright, but announcing with a level voice:

“Lucius Malfoy, mylord.”

He stepped aside and held the door open for the visitor, who was sheathing his wand and strode over to the master desk, greeting Sirius with a curt nod.

“Leave us,” Sirius ordered and the servant nodded, closing the door behind him as he went. Gesturing Malfoy to take a seat, Sirius sat down himself.

“To what do I owe the pleasure then, Lucius?”

***

“I will be back late. Any arriving mail is to be put on my desk; I want no appointments scheduled for tomorrow morning until twelve. Switch off the Floo and arrange for chilled water to be in my room when I return.”

“As you wish, mylord. I hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“I suppose a sufficient quantity of wine will see to that despite my mother's presence,” Sirius replied and grabbed his wand. A second later he had Apparated.

*

The ballroom of Malfoy manor was lit up and witches and wizards of the most renowned pure-blood families and the highest social ranks were moving with glasses of wine and champagne in their hands. Helping himself to a drink, Sirius made his way through the crowd, scanning faces for ones that were worth talking to. He had spotted Bellatrix across the room and was about to walk over to her, when the crowd to his right suddenly parted and a well-known figure approached him, head held high under a tower of ornamented hair. The Black family crest shone on her signet ring as she extended a hand towards him.

“Sirius.” Her voice was like velvet and Sirius bowed respectfully before he took her hand and smiled at her with polite affection.

“Mother. I don't think I have to tell you that you look awe-inspiringly beautiful tonight.”

“Oh, shush,” his mother chided him, linking her arm into his and nodding away from the crowd. “I have been waiting for you to show up. You're late. We need to talk.”

Slowly they made their way out of the ballroom towards the adjacent atrium. As the music grew quiet and their steps on the stone floor louder, Sirius turned his head towards his mother. The moon shone brightly and illuminated the jewels around her neck. She wore them with the grace of a woman whose age had given her elegance and maturity, not to mention the power she held. She was still beautiful, the family features of the House of Black visible in every aspect of her face, giving her an air of dignity and nobility.

“How have you been, mother?” Sirius asked, preparing for the inevitable, and Walburga raised an eyebrow.

“I have been doing perfectly fine, Sirius, and if you had been socially present at all, you would have known.”

“I have been busy, mother.”

“Sirius,” she hissed, looking at him sharply, “You are the head of the House of Black now. You cannot afford being too busy to attend social functions. You need to show our family's omnipresence in this world, especially now that your father has passed on and you are the heir of his fortune and position.”

Sirius kept his expression calm and composed, even if he was inwardly groaning. He knew well enough that he had been embarrassingly elusive, but he had hoped that he might be able to put it off as a respectable retreat from festivities because of his official mourning of his father, or some such thing.

“I am aware of my duties, mother,” he tried to pacify her, “and as you know I had every intention of being 'socially present', but I assume it has not escaped your notice that the Ministry has passed an amnesty bill, which means I have been busy keeping everything in line despite our workforce being down to seventy per cent.”

“Oh, everyone's having those problems,” Walburga spat derisively. “Never mind about some money lost, we have plenty.” She looked at her son and put her hand on his cheek to turn his head toward her. “What matters is that we do not lose social status because of it, Sirius. You are my eldest son. People must see you and acknowledge that you are not affected by any minor political changes. The rest takes care of itself.”

“As you wish, mother,” Sirius sighed. “Forgive me. I will do my best.”

Walburga smiled and nodded.

“I know you will. I _am_ proud of you, Sirius.” She made to turn around and gestured back to the ballroom. “So far, no damage has been done. I have let it seep through that your absence is to be considered a respectable retreat from festivities to honour your deceased father's memory...”

Sirius couldn't help grinning for a moment, but composed himself when Walburga continued.

“Of course everyone will expect you to marry, now that you are the head of the House of Black – you are aware of that, I presume.”

“Yes, mother,” Sirius nodded. “And as you very well know I had every intention of taking care of that already before father's death, but again, life interfered and I had to postpone this plan for the time being.”

“Don't postpone it for too long,” Walburga replied as they stepped back into the ballroom. “There are any number of eligible matches out there. Pick the most favourable connection, marry her, take the fertility potion, produce an heir and one or two other children and get it over with. The longer you wait, the more attention it attracts.”

“Of course, mother,” Sirius pressed out, his eyes resting on Bellatrix, who was talking to Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy not far away. Walburga followed her son's gaze and frowned as she looked at him.

“Sirius,” she implored quietly, “I mean it. Don't look around much longer. It does not do to marry for love; better reserve your affection for someone you won't have to degrade yourself to acts of the flesh with.”

Sirius nodded curtly and smiled as he gently pulled his arm from his mother's grasp.

“You are right, of course. Thank you, mother.” He gingerly raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “And now, please excuse your respectably mourning son and heir, who had better grace this place with his presence.” He winked in an attempt to appeal to her good graces and Walburga smiled good-naturedly at her son as she nodded.

“Be in touch, Sirius.”

“I promise.” Backing away, Sirius eventually turned around to get himself another much needed glass of wine and made his way through the crowd, nodding at people in greeting and exchanging light small talk occasionally. He didn't linger anywhere, but strove to make his way across the room as quickly as possible.

“Sirius,” Bellatrix called and waved him over to where she was standing with their hosts. Smiling amiably, Sirius stepped over to them and kissed Narcissa's hand.

“I'm glad you came,” his blonde cousin smiled, “It's been a while, Sirius.”

“I could hardly refuse a personal invitation, could I?” Sirius replied, raising his glass. “And I must compliment you, Narcissa. It is a splendid ball indeed.”

Narcissa smiled and looked adequately flattered, even though they both knew that she'd heard the same thing from every person in the room. Lucius snorted.

“You will not be given the honour of a personal visit again if you don't train your servants to show respect where it is due.”

Sirius looked unimpressed.

“My servant was not to admit anyone. And I would be very much obliged if you refrained from damaging my property in the future. Especially when that property is carrying out my orders.”

Lucius huffed, but before he could say any more, Bellatrix had chirped up.

“So I take it you have indeed trained one of my gifts?” She seemed pleased with herself. “Are they proving useful?”

“Marginally,” Sirius answered flatly. “I've been trying to turn one of them into some kind of secretary, but I still have a lot more work on my hands than I used to. Terribly slow on the uptake and his handwriting's a scrawl...”

“I find their ability to learn is improved greatly with an occasional... incentive,” Bellatrix smiled. “They outgrow themselves once they realise it's a matter of being whipped ten times or fifty times.”

Lucius smirked and Sirius glared at him.

“It appears that Lucius seems to agree with you on this, Bella,” he stated flatly, “But to be frank, I have better things to do than punishing my servants on top of my regular workload. I cannot really be bothered to care that much.” He shrugged and chuckled. “On the other hand, I will have to give a garden party once summer is here. I have had between eight and elven werewolves tending to my trees and hedges lately.”

“They love that, don't they,” Bellatrix laughed. “I have no idea why. I reckon planting bushes and trees is the next best thing to hiding bones in the flowerbeds for them...”

The little group burst into amused laughter. Eventually, Bellatrix emptied her glass and set it down on a nearby table. She turned to Sirius and pursed her lips.

“What do you say, Sirius, should we take a walk? I should like to hear more about your army of gardeners, but I fear we are boring our hosts...”

Nodding, Sirius offered her his arm and they respectfully left Lucius and Narcissa, who were soon busy talking to yet another of their guests. Leading him onto the dance floor, where they would be able to talk relatively undisturbed, Bellatrix placed her hand on Sirius's shoulder. He manoeuvred them between the other dancing couples, waiting for Bellatrix to say what she obviously wanted to discuss. He didn't have to wait long.

“I suppose you have talked to your mother,” she smiled dryly and Sirius grinned forcedly.

“Yes. I expect this was yet another thing you have seen coming, right?”

“Like you haven't,” Bellatrix chuckled. “So between you and me, is there anyone you have an eye on?”

Sirius caught her gaze and they shared a tense moment of mutual understanding before Bellatrix shook her head.

“I take that as a no.”

Sirius took the occasion to spin Bellatrix around before answering.

“Mother suggested I make a choice soon. Someone with money... and who, of course, isn’t too closely related to me.”

“That still leaves ample room for choice,” Bellatrix remarked and Sirius nodded.

“I suppose so. I'd have to think about the options; I haven't been out and about a lot – the other thing my dear mother gave me hell for...”

“Aww, darling,” Bellatrix cooed. “I know you've been busy and she knows, too. If you want, I can make a list of possible matches for you. I have certain insight into the private matters of families that others perhaps lack. I'll make sure to put only the best witches on there. How does that sound?”

“And I will flip a galleon?” Sirius smiled, spinning them both around. Bellatrix laughed and clung to his shoulder with one hand.

“Isn't that how the world is run?” she grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Sirius's face. “We flip a coin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that "Way the Lind" is a pretty weird name for a house. I had just taken a course on historical linguistics at the time and had a super elaborate etymology for that name dating back hundreds of years ~~because I care far too much~~. I'm afraid that word file got lost, but yeah, it all made a lot of sense. ~~I think.~~


	2. Tristesses de la Lune

Sirius groaned with annoyance and set down his quill. He grabbed a stack of letters and held them out to the werewolf.

“Take those down to the Owlery and wait for an answer from Lestrange.”

Swallowing and nodding, the servant hurried out of the room and Sirius leaned back and rubbed his temples when the door had fallen shut. He was irritable, and he blamed his damned assistant for it, who'd been fidgety and restless all day and seemed to be breathing twice as loud as usual. He'd dropped things, almost fallen over his own feet twice, and on the whole hadn't managed to sit still at any point.

Sirius was not pleased. He was currently corresponding with a number of pure-blood families, accepting and declining invitations to all sorts of parties and meetings depending on his schedule, cross-referencing all the names he wasn't too familiar with Bellatrix's list of eligible females that she had sent the other day. He read every letter twice, looked for any hidden messages in the subtext and worded his responses with excruciating care. He did not need a jumpy, clumsy werewolf to set his nerves any more on edge.

Enjoying the silence in his assistant's absence, Sirius tried to think of something to occupy the guy with. If he couldn't sit still and be invisible, he could at least make himself useful. The further away from Sirius, the better, since he would be stuck in this office writing stupid letters until after his usual dinnertime anyway.

Looking up at the sound of the door, he addressed the werewolf with a stern voice.

“I have been thinking,” he began and the other man straightened up, his eyes locked to the floor. “Since it looks like you will remain in this position for some time, I will need to put you to better use than carrying my mail about and sorting my files alphabetically.” Sirius narrowed his eyes when the man's shoulders seemed to jerk almost unnoticeably, but he decided to ignore it. “You will work as my scribe. I have other things to do than write standard business letters myself. Unfortunately, your orthography is abominable, so starting tomorrow-”

“Mylord,” the man broke out almost reluctantly and Sirius gritted his teeth.

“What is it?”

“Mylord, it's the full moon tonight...”

Sirius blinked and looked at the calendar on his desk. It was indeed the night of the full moon. All his werewolf staff was to be locked in the transformation cells in the cellar in a bit less than two hours and would, according to the appointed Healer, be incapable of doing work tomorrow. Sirius scowled and looked back at the werewolf in front of him.

“Fair enough. Starting after the full moon you will work on your spelling and your calligraphy until I can let you take over some correspondence without embarrassing myself to the bone. You will also keep record of household matters, maintenance expenses and the like. Since I am the only person to see those records, an occasional spelling error will not be quite as fatal in consequence, even though I still wouldn't encourage making any. Have I made myself clear as to your future duties?”

“Yes, mylord.”

Sighing, Sirius rested his elbows on his desk in front of him and rubbed his eyes. Glancing at his servant from between his fingers, he groaned again.

“Is the moon the reason why you haven't been able to sit still all day?”

The man twitched uncomfortably.

“I'm afraid so, mylord. I am trying my best... I'm sorry, mylord.”

Sirius glared at him for a moment, biting back his own restlessness and ignoring the tension that had settled in his shoulders and was currently giving him a backache.

“Just get out of my sight for the rest of the day,” he growled, picking up his quill. “Go plant a tree with your packmates or something. Have dinner sent up at eight sharp. Now _go!_ ” he pressed, causing the door to fly open with a wave of his wand.

“Th-thank you, mylord.”

Bowing, the werewolf backed out and closed the door behind himself.

Sirius went back to his letters, wondering briefly whether he might not have to marry Octavia Blishwick simply to save her from her own surname, before deciding he definitely needed a break from thinking about possible marriages. Hoping to find his equilibrium again, he grabbed a book he'd been reading at some point and settled back in his armchair.

After continuously battling his own unease for an hour and then his stubbornness for another, he looked at the clock and realised that dinner wasn't going to be served for yet another while. Snorting indignantly, he grabbed his wand, charmed the door shut and stomped off into his adjacent bedroom, casting a Silencing Charm as he went.

He wasn't particularly keen on it, but if this was what it was going to take, then he was fed up enough to bloody well go through with it.

Sirius knew that, behind closed doors, everyone slipped occasionally. It was an unspoken, unmentioned piece of general knowledge, but Sirius prided himself with breaking down considerably less often than, say, Bulstrode, who had about as much self-control as a wild boar and gave in to base urges with roughly the same frequency as he went to relieve himself of the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed.

Sliding his hand down his trousers as he lay back on the bed, Sirius mentally stated for the record that far from craving physical _pleasure_ , he was choosing this option for practical reasons, comparable to sticking his fingers down his throat when he'd drunk too much wine and didn't fancy a hangover the next morning. He. Was. Not. An. Animal. 

He was _stressed_ , that was all it was. Tense and restless and irritated, not least because his creature assistant had been nothing short of infuriating with his fidgeting and uncontrolled fumbling around him while he was trying to _focus_. He should have known better than to employ werewolves, who had no capacity of self-control, but simply gave way to whatever primal drive came their way and then exuded their primitive urges and got on his nerves. That was why they were locked up in the cellar, ripping themselves to shreds, or doing other unspeakable things to prove that they were nothing but beasts...

Sirius bit the knuckles of his unoccupied hand, forcing his eyes open and focusing on a specific point on the painted, ornamented ceiling of his bedroom. It didn't feel good, it couldn't feel good...

Shaking his head as he continued to move his hand _that way_ , he told himself not to be ridiculous. It felt good, it was supposed to feel good, that was the aim of the exercise. He was intelligent enough to acknowledge that.

It simply didn't mean anything. It meant nothing.

Nothing.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling, Sirius felt his abdominal muscles convulse with his release, and he relaxed into the mattress below as a wave of peaceful weightlessness swept over him. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow for a moment in which he wished he wouldn't have to grab his wand and clean himself up now.

But dinner would be served and he wanted to get another letter written until then. At least the annoying buzz in his head was gone.

***

Turning the page of the financial supplement of the Sunday Prophet with vigour, Sirius could see from the corner of his eye how a couple of loose papers slid off the edge of his desk with the breeze, almost in slow motion. Pushing his chair back, he made to grab his wand and summon them, when an arm reached down out of nowhere and picked them up.

“Where did you come from?” Sirius snapped in surprise and the werewolf stepped back.

“I just arrived, mylord. I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you.”

“The hell,” Sirius replied, sitting down again and eyeing his servant. “Why are you here? I thought you lot needed the day after the full moon off.”

The man flinched and nodded.

“The others are out of work today, mylord. But since my occupation does not consist of hard physical labour, the Healer decided I was fit to return to work at noon, mylord.”

Sirius frowned sceptically. He hadn't been prepared for this, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that. Gripping his wand, he got up.

“My correspondence for today has been taken care of,” he explained curtly. “You will work on your writing.”

He conjured up a simple desk by the door, where he could see it, and transformed a large cushion from his settee into a chair. Summoning ink, parchment and a number of ledgers from a shelf, he motioned the werewolf to sit down, which he did, biting his lip when the movement seemed to cause him pain, but not uttering a sound.

“These are last year's household protocols and reports,” Sirius instructed. “You will familiarise yourself with the format and then proceed to write such a report for the month before last. Can you do numbers?”

“Yes. I think so, mylord,” the man replied and Sirius nodded curtly.

“You have until the day after tomorrow to get it done. Then I will check it back against the report your predecessor wrote at the beginning of last month. It better not deviate much from it. And keep an eye on incoming mail.”

“Yes, mylord.”

Sirius took a step back when the man opened the first ledger and hesitatingly took up the quill. He rolled it between his fingers for a moment and Sirius frowned, sighing.

“Have you written with a quill before?”

“No, mylord.”

Brilliant. He would actually have to teach the werewolf how to use a quill. Sirius grabbed the ledger and put it away. Shoving a piece of parchment towards his servant, he tried to keep his voice calm and patient, but added enough edge to it to signal that he was not going to repeat himself.

“Practise it first. I don't need ink blotches in my ledgers. ...Don't grip it so tightly. It's not going to fly away, just... gently. Okay, dip it into the ink, not too much... and write. Write your name for all I care. Do you have a name?”

He realised that he had no idea what the werewolf was called. Whether he was called anything.

Well, Sirius supposed that since the man could _speak_ , he would have at least _some_ sense of self and therefore probably a name, but he hadn't ever bothered to ask, even though he'd been working in the same room as him for the better part of two weeks.

“What's your name?”

The man seemed taken aback at the question and bit his lip nervously.

“Mylord, you have the right to call me whatever you wish.”

_Oh yeah?_ Sirius scowled.

“It so happens that I treasure my right to have questions answered above that of naming my servants in some ridiculous demonstration of power. _Your name!_ ”

“Remus Lupin, mylord.”

“Do you know how to write it?”

“Yes, mylord,” Remus Lupin replied and slowly wrote the words down, letter for letter. His handwriting was crooked and clumsy enough, but Sirius figured he couldn't be too demanding if he wanted to get anywhere with this.

“Good. Use this piece of parchment to get used to the quill and to practise any letters or words you might feel need practising. Then get to work. The report’s still due the day after tomorrow.” He pointed his wand at another shelf and a large book came zooming across the room and landed on top of the ledger. “Here's a dictionary if you need to make sure about spelling. Use it when in doubt.”

“Thank you, mylord.”

Sirius went back to his own desk, sitting down with his Prophet and occasionally throwing a look at Remus Lupin's progress with quill and ink. For the biggest part, the man looked focused and busy. At least he was silent and didn't shift about all the time. Some part of Sirius hoped that he would get the hang of those reports; he himself had dreaded having to write them himself. He could look through them afterwards, but generally they were more of a nuisance.

The cracking sound of a house-elf Apparating was the only thing that disturbed Sirius for the next hour. Glaring at the creature in front of his desk, he was about to snap at it, when he saw the crest on the elf's tea towel.

“Master Black,” the creature squeaked. “I am to announce my Mistress Bellatrix Lestrange. She wishes to speak to you urgently and will be here any moment.”

Bowing low, the elf disappeared and Sirius motioned the werewolf to open the door. In contrast to Rodolphus, who liked to just materialise in the middle of the carpet like a burglar, Bellatrix had style and manners enough to enter through the door. Sure enough he could hear her steps outside on the marble corridor and he stood up from his chair. Walking out from behind his desk to greet his cousin he noticed how Remus looked vaguely sick around the face and his hand on the doorknob was shaking slightly. There were ink stains on his fingers and Sirius rolled his eyes – inwardly, since Bellatrix strode in through the door in that very moment.

“Sirius, darling,” she greeted him cheerfully and Sirius kissed her hand with a grin, nodding at the werewolf at the door.

“Leave us alone. I will call for you when I need you.”

“Yes, mylord,” came the answer and Bellatrix turned around with a curious smile on her face.

“That one of my pups? My, my, who'd have thought...”

With a giggle she shot a minor hex at him and Sirius smirked bemusedly when he saw Remus jerk and grimace in pain as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

“My dear Bellatrix,” Sirius turned his cousin's attention from the werewolf to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You mean apart from my boredom?” Bellatrix joked as she walked around Sirius's office and eventually sat down in his master armchair at his desk. “I have come to extend a personal invitation to one of those society events you so desperately need to your name.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sirius chuckled and summoned a chair for himself. Bellatrix shrugged and explained.

“Rodolphus is hosting a huge conference and ball at Way the Lind this Saturday. The really grand kind; nothing like Lucius's charming little get-together the other week. Everyone important will be there, not just from around here, but from all over England, and a number of noblemen and politicians from the continent have been invited as well. I suggest you take this as a chance and forge new connections...”

Sirius was sure his eyes were visibly sparkling at the thought of said congregation. He had heard rumours about it, certainly, but an invitation from Bellatrix's mouth let the whole rumour become a wonderful reality. While the Black empire had mostly stabilised after the initial disruption caused by the amnesty bill, he could still use some more investors – or occasions for investing himself.

“I will be honoured,” he replied, conjuring up two glasses of wine. “I'm going to toast to that, even. I cannot thank you enough, my dear cousin.”

“Oh, please,” Bellatrix laughed. “If there's one person I'd like to see profit from this apart from Rodolphus, it's you.”

“What is Rodolphus hoping to get out of it, then? Apart from supporters for his campaign,” Sirius asked and Bellatrix shrugged.

“Information, mostly. After the amnesty bill, we expected Dumbledore to return from his self-imposed exile. But he's been surprisingly absent from the local political scene, even though we know he is no longer in Germany where he was known to be last. We're trying to get information on whatever he's up to.”

“I see,” Sirius nodded, sipping his wine.

At the end of the last war, Dumbledore had been forced to admit temporary defeat. Half his own followers had turned on him and he had left the country and gone into exile with a select few of his faithful supporters. It was assumed that he still had some kind of influence on political happenings, particularly on the liberal sector in the ministry, but nothing had ever been confirmed. And now he had seemingly disappeared completely.

“But most importantly,” Bellatrix suddenly said, grinning madly behind her glass of wine, “I have seen to it that every pure-blood female on my list will be there, too. You will be able to enjoy their presence and conversation for an entire evening. I told your mother and she's _thrilled_.”

Sirius sighed, but couldn't help laughing.

“Thank you, Bella. The amount of devotion you dedicate to my future marriage is touching indeed...”

***

Frowning, Sirius looked at the three pages of uneven handwriting that he'd placed in front of himself onto his desk. Occasionally narrowing his eyes to decipher a particular word that even the Spelling Spell hadn't rendered any more legible, he eventually looked up at Remus Lupin, who stood next to his desk, clutching a stack of mail that was to be owled.

“This is not as bad as I expected, even if it is _a day late_ ,” Sirius said curtly, handing the papers back to his servant, who took them with a bow. “I advise you to dedicate the same amount of precision to last month's report and the current one. It will be your task to keep the files and tables up to date on a daily basis and hand in a report on the whole month no later than the second day of the following month. Is this clear?”

“Yes, mylord,” the man nodded and Sirius continued.

“As for this report,” he pointed at the three pages in Remus's hands, “You will keep it and by the time you hand in your next one, you will also correct the errors you made here. Once you hand in error-free, _legible_ reports and you have sorted out all the mistakes on these pages, you will be given proper correspondence tasks. If this takes longer than two months you will regret it, so I encourage you to make an effort.”

“Yes, mylord.”

“Also,” Sirius finally added, extending a demanding hand towards his assistant, who took a step back in surprise, “Before you go and owl those letters, give me back the letter for Lucius Malfoy. I have an urge to rephrase some of it.”

Looking confused, Remus handed him the letter and Sirius shredded the envelope with a flick of his wand. Scanning the latter with pursed lips, Sirius eventually made it go up in flames and pulled out a new piece of parchment.

“Go and owl the stack you've got,” he ordered Remus, grabbing his quill. Nodding, the servant left the room as quietly as possible, leaving his master scribbling away with a darkened expression.

When the werewolf returned, Sirius was in the process of sealing up the envelope.

“Do you want me to wait for the reply, mylord?” he inquired as he took the letter and saw it marked as urgent.

Sirius got up from his chair, stretching his neck.

“No. I will deal with his answer tomorrow. I will retire now; send up a house-elf with tea on your way to the Owlery.”

“Mylord?”

Sirius blinked, irritated to be still talking to his servant.

“What is it?”

“Mylord, you marked the matter as urgent,” Remus pointed out and Sirius shrugged.

“Urgent for Malfoy, yes. Someone who squandered my invested money so carelessly had better read what I have to say without delay.” He pursed his lips. “Which does not mean I am under any obligation to read his reply until I feel like it.”

“I'm sure Lord Malfoy will be pleased,” Remus muttered quietly to himself, bowing and backing away to leave. Sirius shoved a number of spare parchment rolls back into the drawer of his desk and closed his inkwell.

“Oh, I very much hope so. Because surely, if I should be concerned about _anything_ after losing twenty thousand galleons, it should be Lucius Malfoy's chronically high blood pressure under his wig...”

It was silent for a moment.

“Certainly, mylord,” came the quiet answer and Sirius raised an eyebrow as he looked up.

“Does the issue amuse you, Remus Lupin?”

“No, mylord,” the man replied quickly, biting his lip in an attempt to return his face to its polite, expressionless state.

Sirius glared at him for a moment, watching the facial features of his servant shift uncomfortably. He burst out a chuckle.

“No?”

Remus Lupin blushed and glanced up at his master, exhaling and allowing for the hint of a smile to tug at his lips.

“Maybe a little, mylord. I apologise; I didn't mean to offend, mylord.”

Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest and tilted his head.

“And so I discover Lucius Malfoy's hidden talent as a source for amusement for someone else besides myself... Maybe I should have held back with some of the meaner insults in that letter...”

The werewolf burst out a small chuckle.

“Perhaps, mylord...” he muttered, looking slightly ashamed with himself as he quietly and awkwardly joined in with Sirius's laughter that rang bizarrely loud in the quiet of his office.

“Oh, go and owl that stupid letter,” Sirius chuckled, waving him off after he had collected himself. “I'm done with paperwork for today. You can leave once you've brought things in order for tomorrow and shut the Floo down...”

“As you wish, mylord,” Remus replied.

“By the way,” Sirius added as he made to leave towards his adjacent private rooms, “You will order the house-elves to fit you out with formal robes. You will accompany me to Way the Lind on Saturday, as my valet.”

The werewolf halted, looking little enthusiastic about the prospect.

“Mylord, are you quite certain...”

“Yes,” Sirius cut him off. “It is customary to bring a servant and you're the closest thing to a valet I can currently boast. This is not up for discussion.”

Swallowing hard, the werewolf bowed.

“Yes, mylord.”

***

“Move your tag up under your cuff,” Sirius ordered and watched as Remus hurried to slide the magical bracelet that marked him his master's property up over his wrist and under the white cuff of his shirt. While Sirius didn't expect anybody to doubt what Remus was, there was no need to flaunt the fact that he kept a creature as his valet.

Turning towards the tall mirror in his bedroom, he adjusted his own robes. He felt more on edge than he was comfortable with. Too much depended on this conference and if he ever wanted to get his mother out of his hair, he needed to play his cards well.

“You are to be at my every beck and call at all times,” he instructed, his voice sharp. “You are also to be invisible to everyone else. Do not speak unless spoken to, do not go anywhere without my explicit instruction and do. Not. Attract. Attention. Are we understood?”

“Yes, mylord.”

“During the business meetings in the afternoon you are to sit by the wall with the rest of the servants and pretend to be blind, deaf and mute. Keep your eyes on your master at all times.” He shot a sideways glance at his servant, who nodded. “Do not get caught looking at anyone else, do not move unless I require something from you, and don't utter a single sound. Clear?”

“Yes, mylord.”

“You are of no use to me as a valet if anyone acknowledges your presence at any point. You are not there.”

“Yes, mylord.”

“Get the folders with the documents. And hurry up, else I will be late.”

“Yes, mylord.”

The werewolf walked swiftly over into the office, where a prepared stack of folders lay on Sirius's desk, along with a quill and rolls of parchment. Making sure he hadn't forgot anything, he returned to Sirius's side.

“There will be an hour of break between the meetings and dinner,” Sirius continued his briefing, “during which you will Floo back here and get my dress robes for tonight. They are over there and wrapped to keep off the soot. There will not be much time, so don't linger about. You get my robes to Way the Lind and then return to drop off the ones I'm currently wearing. You then come back to the conference so I can give you further instructions for dinner and the ball.”

“Yes, mylord.”

Looking at the clock by his bed, Sirius nodded towards the fireplace. Remus hurried to the mantelpiece and grabbed a handful of Floo powder.

“And of course, one last thing,” Sirius added casually, causing his servant to halt in his movements. “Perhaps most importantly – you are to know everybody by name and title by the time the business meetings are over. All participants in the meetings, their spouses, sons, daughters, associates, servants. Once dinner is served, you must know every person in the house.”

“Mylord?”

Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come on, don't pretend to be even dimmer than you are. There will be hundreds of people there, all of them watching each other. Due to a tragic and most unfortunate birth-defect, I obviously have only one pair of eyes. I need someone invisible to keep an eye on things I cannot keep an eye on myself. So you better exploit whatever capacity of intelligence you may be endowed with because you will be sorry if you mess up. Now go!”

The werewolf nodded hastily and threw the handful of Floo powder into the fire.

“Yes, mylord. I will do my best.”

“I hope so,” Sirius huffed. “Join me in the entrance hall immediately. _Way the Lind, servants' quarters!_ ”

The flames turned green and Remus stepped into the fireplace, whirling away while Sirius arranged the collar of his robes for the fifth time and then Apparated.

***

Sirius had been avoiding his mother all evening, talking avidly with everyone who crossed his way. He should have known that Walburga could not miss out on a ball like this and felt foolish for not having calculated her into his plans beforehand. As it was, he felt forced to improvise and re-arrange his priorities a little.

Instead of getting his hooks into two or three of the richest pure-blood wizards of Europe and expand the Black empire onto the continent, he instead made sure to engage every halfway eligible heiress present in light conversation. Inwardly groaning at all the chattering around him he put on a charming smile and served out nonchalant and suave phrases and compliments to all sides, even to the German princess, who sported a harelip and horrible French grammar. He was painfully aware how absolutely superfluous such social niceties were; he was rich enough to marry any of them without having to speak as much as two words with them before.

Three hours later he was thoroughly sick of the ongoing gossiping and giggling around him and took the next occasion to leave the ballroom without Walburga noticing. He walked down a long corridor and turned sharply to step out onto one of the mansion's long balconies.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he burst out in irritation, his voice turning into a hiss. “You were supposed to keep an eye on Lord Lestrange and whomever he seemed to be keeping close!”

“Forgive me, mylord,” his servant replied nervously. He stood in the shade of a pillar, hidden from the waning moonlight. “I _was_ watching them. Lord Lestrange and a number of other gentlemen left for a private room upstairs. I... I could not see any way of following them there without being spotted...”

Sirius sighed. Damn. Lestrange hadn't come down with the last shower indeed. Bellatrix had had a point.

“Lord Lestrange. Who else?” Sirius demanded to know and Remus twisted his fingers, as if he was trying to remember correctly.

“There were five of them. Lord Lestrange, Lord Malfoy...” he swallowed. “Lord Blishwick, Lord Dolohov...”

“Dolohov's not a Lord, Dolohov's a suck-up,” Sirius spat and his servant flinched.

“I'm sorry, mylord.” He paused and when Sirius looked impatient, continued. “The last man I didn't know. He was not at the business meetings, nor at the dinner,” he added quickly and Sirius frowned.

“A servant?”

“No, mylord. He was nobody's servant and I could not make out his name; they didn't mention it. He was maybe slightly shorter than me, blonde, somewhat stocky in build, and dressed in dark purple velvet robes.”

Sirius browsed his memory and had to admit that he hadn't seen or noticed anyone who could match the description.

“Where did they go?” he asked and Remus pointed at the door Sirius had stepped through.

“They continued up the stairs. I thought I could... maybe wait here. And maybe they'd come back,” he explained hesitatingly and not sounding too convinced.

“Is that why you're here then?”

“Yes, mylord.”

“That was some quick answer.”

“Mylord, I...” Remus took a deep breath and shrank back into the shadows behind the pillar. “I was also trying to avoid Lady Lestrange, mylord. She seemed to be watching me at some point earlier and I thought it wise not to... attract attention, mylord.”

Sirius pondered the werewolf for a moment, privately appreciating the irony that he himself was out on this balcony for pretty much the same reason – in his case avoiding his mother because she'd been watching him at some point earlier.

“You do not like Lady Lestrange.”

It wasn't really a question as much as a statement and the other man seemed at a loss of words.

“Mylord, you know that I am in no position to have opin-...”, he began, but Sirius interrupted him.

“You wouldn't want me to send you back into her service.”

“No... I mean... mylord, I can't really... I would never...”

“Would never what?”

“Are you going to send me back mylord?” Remus burst out, sounding a bit desperate.

“Who's asking the questions here, now?”

“Forgive me, mylord.” The werewolf swallowed and took a deep breath before frowning. “What... what was the question you asked, mylord?”

He sounded so humble and miserable that Sirius spontaneously had to laugh.

“Never mind,” he replied. “Stop fidgeting; I'm not going to send you back.”

“Thank you, mylord.”

Silence fell between them and Sirius turned away to lean onto the balustrade. Way the Lind had a well tended-to garden, even if it was considerably smaller than his own. Way the Lind was also in the middle of London and not out in the country like Black Manor. Sirius had generally little patience for the city. His mother preferred Grimmauld Place to the countryside, but he himself had moved his residence and business away from the buzz of highly populated areas, to a place where he could hear himself think.

Sirius let his gaze wander over the rows and mazes of hedges and bushes below, appreciating the ghostly glow the moonlight gave to everything. Movement in the corner of his eye distracted him and he realised to his discomfort that Remus Lupin was still standing there. He wondered for a moment whether he had grown this used to the servant's presence or whether the man just got better at being invisible.

“What is it?”

“I'm sorry, mylord, I didn't mean to...” his servant spoke quietly. “You came out here, mylord. A-are you not enjoying the ball?”

“I'm enjoying the silence for now,” Sirius replied pointedly, sounding a bit harsher than he had intended as he straightened up.

“I'm sorry. Do you want me to leave?” Remus asked and Sirius looked at his face, shining pale in the moonlight. He stood with his shoulders pulled up as usual, which made him look smaller than he probably was. His eyes were glued to the ground, as always.

“N-,” Sirius began, but broke off when he heard approaching steps.

“Sirius!” Bellatrix's voice ripped through the silence, sounding strangely loud in the darkness. “I've been looking for you, where...-”

She spotted Remus and frowned, narrowing her eyes.

“What are _you_ doing back here?” She looked up at Sirius. “Has he been sneaking around again? I thought he looked suspicious earlier... You are not supposed to be here, or anywhere near this wing of the house,” she snapped at the werewolf, moving her hand to where her wand was hidden in her dress robes.

“It's all right, Bella,” Sirius cut in, resting his hand on hers as it hovered over her wand. He smiled and she looked suspiciously at him for a moment.

“He was following my orders,” Sirius continued calmly.

“Oh yes? And how would those orders have led him here, I wonder?”

Sirius sighed and turned her towards him, looking slightly busted.

“If you must know,” he began, tilting his head to speak closer to her ear as he began to improvise wildly, “I have been wanting to speak with Lord Blishwick. But my mother has been hovering all evening and I was too caught up in there to keep an eye on him. Lord Blishwick has been proving elusive, I'm afraid. I told my valet to watch out for a chance for me to get Blishwick alone...”

“I lost sight of him, mylord,” Remus spoke up nervously, sounding apologetic, “I thought he disappeared down this corridor, but I must have been wrong...”

“Oh, silence!” Bellatrix snapped. “Nobody's speaking to you.” She narrowed her eyes at Sirius and lowered her voice. “Why would you want to talk to the old fossil?”

Sirius hissed delicately and pursed his lips.

“Well, you see... let's say I would like to discuss matters of a more... private nature with dear Lord Blishwick... if you recall our discussion at your last visit...?”

Bellatrix's eyes widened for a second and a grin spread across her face.

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Sirius replied smoothly, inclining his head towards the door and applying just enough pressure to Bellatrix's hand to subtly imply they should go back inside to discuss the matter in detail. Turning back towards Remus, who had retreated back into the shadow, he ordered with a level voice:

“As for you, go back home and have everything prepared for my return in two hours. Get the office in order and place today's documents where I can look at them first thing tomorrow.”

“Yes, mylord.”

***

It was long after four in the morning that Sirius Apparated home. Drinking copious amounts of water while he got ready for bed, he listened to the werewolf's report on everything that had happened at the manor in his absence. When he had finished, Sirius yawned and crawled into bed without responding to any of it.

“Mark down a lunch appointment with Lord Blishwick for Tuesday after next before you go to bed,” he instructed his servant, closing his eyes and hoping that tomorrow's hangover wouldn't be too bad. “And have a hangover potion prepared by the house-elves, I want one on my bedside table tomorrow morning!” he yelled after the man, who had walked over into the office.

“As you wish, mylord,” came the faint answer and Sirius nodded to himself as he stared at the ceiling, trying to get it to stop moving. He had drunk far too much wine and it wasn't like he hadn't been aware of it at the time, but his mother had been too overbearing for him to stay sober. On the whole the evening had consisted of nothing but improvising, and once he'd started he had found himself forced to keep going.

Sirius groaned and covered his face with his hands when something behind his eyes started to move and threw him off balance. So what if he ended up married to Octavia Blishwick. He had to marry someone and she was as good as any of the others; in fact, he could have ended up with a much worse lie. Octavia had money, good breeding, decent looks and he had to admit that she hadn't been half as tedious to talk to as some of the other girls he had met that evening. He could even see her growing on him, once the whole embarrassing mess with conception potions and heir production was out of the way. Five years of marriage and they might become good friends. He might even grow to love her.

Flinching when he heard the rustle of clothes, he looked to the side and spotted the werewolf picking up and folding away his dress robes.

“Just take them down and give them to the house-elves for cleaning,” he said and Remus nodded, gathering up the pile and clutching it so nothing trailed on the floor.

“Anything else, mylord?”

Sirius tried to force some reaction or movement out of himself, but failed. He hoped the other man would simply take his half-hearted whimper as a 'no' and leave.

“Thank you,” Remus's voice suddenly broke the silence. “For earlier. I _would_ rather continue to work for you, mylord, than go back into Lady Lestrange's service.”

Sirius, who had one arm thrown over his face, flapped his fingers and groaned.

“It's fine. You can show your gratitude by switching off the light when you go.”

“Goodnight, mylord.”

Soft steps were audible as Remus walked out of the room and with a quiet 'click' the room was covered in darkness.

“Thank you,” came a muffled grunt from the bed.


	3. Le Serpent qui danse

“I wish you wouldn't invite me to tea in your _office_ , Sirius,” Walburga wrinkled her nose as she put her cup back onto its saucer. “You moved into the big manor what for, exactly?”

“For the quiet,” Sirius replied politely. “And it so happens that this is my favourite room in the building.”

“If you had someone to brush up the remaining rooms, you might feel different about that,” Walburga stated pointedly and Sirius glared at her over the rim of his teacup. Clearing his throat while his mother nibbled at a biscuit, he tried to keep his impatience out of his voice.

“As you very well know I have been taking care of this, mother.”

“Ah, yes. Octavia Blishwick.”

Sirius sighed and rubbed his eye.

“Yes. Is anything wrong with her? You told me to pick anyone as long as I picked quickly.”

“Oh, certainly,” Walburga chirped, a hint of maternal bitterness in her voice. “I was just surprised you didn't find it worth discussing before practically announcing your intentions to the general public.”

“I am the head of the House of Black, as you keep reminding me. I am very capable of choosing a bride and arranging my own marriage, mother. Besides, I haven't announced anything,” Sirius snapped, his teacup clattering as it hit the saucer. He took a deep breath and hissed, “I have set up lunch with her father, that is all. What the gossip has to say about that is not my concern.”

Walburga looked sour and her voice had a certain edge to it that made Sirius's hangover ten times more painful. The potion had not helped half as much as he had hoped it would and his mother was in best shape.

“Excuse my concern and interest. You are only my son and heir.” When Sirius closed his eyes and sighed in defeat, she continued. “I thought you might tell your own mother about your intentions beforehand. Apparently I was wrong. ...So why Octavia Blishwick? Any particular reason?”

Sirius sat up straight in his chair and bent towards the bowl of biscuits.

“She's of good breeding, respectable, beautiful and rich. If I can get a decent marriage contract and dowry out of her father she's a most eligible match. She is also intelligent and a more pleasant conversationalist than Heliodora Yaxley or, goodness me, Alessa Braithwaite...”

“I agree. A most tedious young woman, that Braithwaite girl,” Walburga nodded derisively, then sighed. “At least you haven't made your choice completely at random. When are you meeting Blishwick?”

“Next Tuesday,” Sirius muttered, chewing his biscuit. “He's in Scotland with his family for a week or so, half on business, half on holiday.”

“Yes, he told me so,” Walburga confirmed. “I had hoped that you would get to meet him before then. So many things could have been arranged in his absence... and of course Octavia needs to undergo examination before anything will be confirmed. If she's barren, the match is impossible.”

“Yes, I know. We can do the examination in two weeks' time just as well. Nothing we can change about that now, anyway,” Sirius pointed out and Walburga shrugged.

“I suppose there are other things to focus on in the meantime. I expect Bellatrix has informed you of the new law that Rodolphus is currently trying to get passed by the Wizengamot?”

“No,” Sirius frowned. “She was rather hung up about the marriage matter. What new law?”

Walburga shifted on her chair and picked up her cup and saucer again.

“Well, since practically everyone seems to be experiencing severe problems with dwindling workforce...”

“We are not,” Sirius cut in. “Our business is perfectly stabilised, just so you know.”

“As I was saying,” Walburga continued sharply, “Since this problem has been rather acutely experienced by many, Rodolphus is trying to ease the pressure on some by getting the Werewolf Act amended.”

Sirius frowned, trying to recall the details of the current Werewolf Act. He couldn't help feeling like Rodolphus was running down a dead end. Blinking, he looked at his mother.

“I'm not sure I see the point. Werewolves aren't legal subjects. I've got a couple – I am _already_ allowed to do whatever I want with them. I think the only thing that could possibly get me into trouble would be slowly and painfully killing them for no reason, since it would fall under cruelty to animals, or some subcategory of that. Correct?”

“Yes.”

“...Then how is Rodolphus going to solve people's lack of working hands this way?”

Walburga shrugged.

“It's only a minor change. He wants to have it put down in the law that, considering the dark-creature status of werewolves, every single one of them _needs_ to have a legal owner. Otherwise they are considered a danger and to be put down on sight.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and nodded.

“And this is how he'll scare a handful of free-running werewolves to hand themselves in and do slave work for their new owners?”

“Apparently,” Walburga yawned, not noticing how the office door behind her was opened noiselessly. Sirius shifted and looked past his mother's head at his secretary, who had entered with an extremely sorry expression on his face. Sirius subtly motioned him to wait, while Walburga got out a handkerchief and dabbed it at her forehead, talking on with a bored expression. “...I must admit, it seems little productive as a solution, considering the vigour with which people at the Ministry have been complaining and demanding some sort of change. I suspect Rodolphus is buying time; the expected rebellion hasn't come as quickly as thought...” She fanned herself for a moment, then put her handkerchief away again, looking at her son. Sirius tried to look interested despite Remus, who was urgently pointing at a letter in his hand. Walburga sighed. “It is still a rather weak course of action. I mean, free-running werewolves are _already_ killed on sight when they're caught. But if Rodolphus thinks it'll make a difference and cause a bunch of them to surrender themselves, I suppose that's fair enough...”

When his mother looked like she had finished her opinionated monologue, Sirius gave a small nod to Remus, who swiftly, but quietly, walked over from the door and wordlessly handed the envelope to Sirius, who took it.

“What is this?” Walburga flinched when she spotted Remus and Sirius regarded her with a blank look.

“An urgent letter from Rodolphus, it seems,” he replied pointedly as to nip her oncoming tirade in the bud. He dismissed his secretary with an offhand gesture and Remus left as quietly as he had appeared. Walburga followed the man with narrowed eyes before turning to her son, who was scanning the letter quickly.

“He needs to discuss something,” Sirius pressed out, pulling a piece of parchment out of a drawer while he was still reading and grabbing his quill. “Excuse me, mother. But I had better reply to this immediately.”

“I was about to go anyway,” she huffed and got up. When Sirius looked like he was going to follow suit, she motioned him to stay put. “I don't need to be let out; I can Apparate. I'll leave you to your work. I will be in touch about Blishwick.”

With a cracking noise, she was gone and Sirius exhaled loudly, collapsing slightly over the piece of parchment he was writing. Scribbling on, he began to fumble for an envelope and realised he didn't have any at hand.

“Are you there?” he called towards the door and less than two seconds later it was opened and Remus came in.

“Mylord...?”

“Stop right there,” Sirius ordered, nodding at Remus's desk. “Get out an envelope and address it to Lord Lestrange, mark it as urgent and indicate who sent it.”

“Yes, mylord.”

Three minutes later, Remus left the office for the Owlery and Sirius slouched back in his armchair, feeling defeated. He'd been prepared for the hangover, after only three hours of sleep, but his mother insisting on having morning tea with him had been altogether too much. Closing his eyes, he wished for the rest of the day to be over. At the soft sound of the door closing, he opened his eyes again.

“Do you want an early lunch to be brought up, mylord?”

Sirius glanced at the clock.

“That would be very early, wouldn't it? It's barely eleven...”

“Yes, but since you didn't take any breakfast the house-elves prepared for the possibility of lunch being served sooner.”

Sirius rubbed his forehead and figured he could probably eat something other than biscuits.

“Do I have time for lunch? What's on the schedule?”

“Nothing at all until the visit of your lawyer at four-thirty, mylord.”

Startled, Sirius glanced at his calendar.

“Wasn't there supposed to be some meeting with the managerial staff of two businesses in Diagon Alley at some point? Wanting instructions for the release of new somethings this week, or... I don't remember...”

Remus shifted and nodded politely.

“Yes, mylord. They were scheduled for eleven. However, as things were...” He looked slightly uncomfortable as he continued, “...they Flooed ten minutes ago, asking for confirmation of the time of the appointment. I informed them that you were currently engaged in a meeting with your mother on family business and that I couldn't tell how long it would take. They seemed... very ready to offer to reschedule the meeting for tomorrow afternoon, or sometime later this week, should you be indisposed.” He coughed. “I'm really very sorry; I was not aware that Lady Black would be leaving so soon.”

Sirius glared at him.

“Good thing she left when she did.” His expression softened and his shoulders sacked a little. “Is there really lunch?”

“Yes, mylord,” Remus answered, suppressing a smile and nodding. “I will arrange for something to be brought up.”

“Please do so...,” Sirius groaned, his forehead hitting the polished desktop. “And, Remus?”

“Yes, mylord?”

“Thank you. For taking an interest in my sanity.”

He didn't see Remus smile, but he could hear it from the sound of his reply.

“You're very welcome, mylord.”

***

_To Lord Sirius Orion Black_  
 _Black Manor_

_Mylord Black,  
In the light of your recent accession to the title of Head of the Noble House of Black, it is my pleasure and honour to humbly recommend my services as the Dark Lord's potions master to you..._

“Why was this not on my desk?” Sirius snapped irritably, discarding the business letter he was writing and the tables and lists of sales in tiny writing that he'd been referring to. Remus straightened up.

“Mylord, it came in an envelope that was neither marked as business nor private matter. As it was, I mistook it for commercial mail and failed to pass it on to your personal correspondence... I apologise.” He handed Sirius an envelope and Sirius eyed the yellow parchment. He looked at the letter again.

“Well, thank you, mother.” He grabbed his wand and blew the envelope to a small pile of ashes. Pursing his lips at the letter, he eventually handed it back to his secretary. “Add this as a note to my calendar for next Wednesday. I refuse to let my mother bully me into scheduling my offspring before I'm even officially engaged...”

“Very well, mylord,” Remus replied and hesitated for a moment. “So you do intend to marry the young Lady Blishwick, mylord?”

Sirius blinked up at his servant and frowned.

“Yes, so long as her father can I manage to settle for a satisfying marriage contract. Which might or might not happen next Tuesday.”

The corners of Remus's mouth twitched a little and he nodded politely.

“I take it it's too early to offer my congratulations then, mylord?”

Scowling, Sirius wiped the small heap of ash off his desk. Grabbing the letter he'd been writing, he shook out the parchment as to rid it of possible dirt without smearing ink over everything.

“Oh, save your bloody congratulations. I have to marry someone, so it might as well be her. Marriage in my circles is a matter of settling the finances, producing a bunch of heirs as quickly and with as few attempts as possible and trying not to step onto each other's toes or, in the best case, actually starting to like one another eventually.”

He glared up at Remus, who had fallen quiet. Sirius was marginally aware that his servant hadn't really intended anything other than a bit of random, light conversation, which they had made a kind of habit out of whenever Sirius obviously needed a break. He usually appreciated that well enough.

But Sirius was not in the mood to have his spirits lifted. He just wanted the day to be over already and get away from letters and numbers and his mother's badly camouflaged attempts of meddling with his private affairs.

“Does this attitude or fact of life pose a problem of some kind to your _werewolf morality?_ ” he added pointedly and Remus blushed, taking a step back.

“No, mylord. Of course not.”

“What's that sorry expression to be then?” Sirius snapped, finding that he had a lot of steam to let off all of a sudden.

“I did not mean to say-” Remus began, shrinking a little, but Sirius cut him off, laughing acidly.

“What, are you stupid enough to think the marriage of someone of my standing has anything to do with _love_ , Remus Lupin?”

Remus's head jerked up. After a moment of silence, he swallowed and avoided his master's icy stare by casting his eyes down again. His voice was faintly conciliatory and very quiet.

“My kind know nothing about love, mylord.”

“Damn right, you don't,” Sirius snarled, not particularly pacified, but also beginning to feel slightly awkward in his flared-up anger. There was only this much satisfaction he could get out of humiliating someone who was standing back and letting it happen.

Remus didn't reply and for a couple of moments it was quiet in the room.

“With your permission, mylord, I will get back to my work.”

“Please do so,” Sirius spat, grabbing his quill and getting back to his letter while the werewolf returned to his own desk. “And don't forget to put the note down for next Wednesday because, as this letter kindly informs me, it takes a _month to brew the bloody conception potion._ ”

“Of course, mylord.”

Dipping his quill into the ink furiously, Sirius realised that his hand was shaking with stiffness and fatigue and with a sigh of defeat he put down the quill and flexed his fingers. He was not going to write a letter in shaky hand. The shop wouldn't randomly go bankrupt overnight just because he postponed his letter with investment instructions for a day. He was done with this.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and charmed the Daily Prophet to hover in the air in front of him as he scanned the pages for anything interesting to take his mind off his own misery. Apart from opinionated contributions from all sorts of people who realised they were incapable of keeping their businesses and households going with the current lack of cheap employees, nothing much was happening. Everyone seemed to be disappointed and disgruntled by the lack of rebellion and unrest and Sirius had to admit that at least a little coup or some bloodshed would have made for more interesting reading than Selwyn's inarticulate ranting at the bottom of the page on current affairs.

There was mention of Rodolphus here and there, with a faint hint that he might be working on a solution to at least some of the foul mood that had been infesting the Ministry lately. Sirius smirked. He was curious enough to see how people would react to ol' Dolphy's genius plan of amending werewolf legislation, of all things, when he came out with it. Sirius still considered the entire proposal to be essentially a feint. He couldn't imagine how improvement could possibly come from a change this random and was rather convinced that it was merely a decoy for some yet hidden ambition, probably of the Dark Lord. It was very unlikely that werewolf policy was at the top of Voldemort's priorities; there was only so much use you could get out of them when it came down to it.

Sirius glanced over the edge of the Prophet at Remus, who was deeply focused writing something, one hand resting on the open dictionary next to his inkwell. His spelling had improved considerably since the beginning, but Sirius was still forced to read over every letter the werewolf wrote. There were some mistakes, unfortunately, that a dictionary didn't help with either, and unless Remus's brain suddenly learned to form and grasp complex thought, Sirius would probably proofread letters until he found a human employee whose mind could. Which was a shame in as far as Sirius wasn't actually dissatisfied with the werewolf; as a creature he simply didn't fulfil the cognitive requirements the position of a secretary asked for.

“Do you remember being human?” Sirius suddenly heard himself asking and Remus looked up.

“Mylord?”

“Do you remember being human?” he repeated.

Remus stared at his master for a moment. Eventually he blinked.

“I remember... fragments of it, mylord.”

“How old were you when you were changed?”

“Eight, mylord.”

“Did you live with your parents before that? Do you remember them?”

The other man seemed to be pondering the question. Sirius wasn't sure why he was asking, but he was intrigued anyway.

“I remember that they existed, yes. I recall nothing more.”

“Nothing more?”

“No, mylord,” Remus answered, hesitating. “I presume that I must have... felt something like love or affection. But since I have no capacity of understanding the complexity of human emotion, I guess that I have no capacity of remembering it, either.”

He looked politely at his master and Sirius wondered briefly what it felt like to be Remus Lupin. It seemed almost attractive to have limited cognitive abilities, he had to admit. The werewolf did not appear half as troubled by the handful of basic emotions – anger, fear, lust – he could feel as Sirius felt most of the time with the emotional spectre he had to cope with as a human being.

“I see,” he replied flatly and went back to his newspaper. The werewolf watched him for a moment, then went back to his writing.

***

“Sort out the folds there in the middle,” Sirius said, craning his neck at an almost impossible angle in front of the mirror to see his own back, or rather, the back of the new cloak he was wearing. Remus, in his position as a valet, did his best to brush down the folds of the fabric so they fell evenly and eventually stepped back, looking expectantly at his master.

“Much better,” Sirius sighed. “Do I look impressive?”

“You do, mylord,” Remus replied, smiling when he caught Sirius's smirk in the mirror.

“Now imagine you're my mother and I'm over for Sunday tea... how impressed would you be?”

“Well...” Remus began, pondering his master's reflection critically. “I would certainly find it necessary to comment on your appearance, mylord...”

“You're my mother, all right...” Sirius chuckled and Remus smiled, then drew in a slightly shaky breath.

“And you really think it's... wise for me to come along, mylord?”

“I am very certain that it is indeed absolutely essential for you to come along,” Sirius replied, arranging a stray strand of hair. “Because I am not going to risk being stuck at Grimmauld Place all day. Which brings me to this...” He pulled a letter out of his robes and handed it to Remus. “Here, take that. You need to hand this to me when I give you a signal. You will pretend it only just arrived and that it's really urgent...”

The werewolf stared at the envelope that looked so important, he thought it might explode any second. Taking it, he glanced up at his master, looking a little amused.

“What kind of signal will that be, mylord?”

Sirius shrugged and bit his lip.

“I don't know... you won't be allowed to stay in the same room as my mother and me. You'll wait outside, so it will have to be something independent of whether or not you can actually see me. And it should be subtle.”

He pointed his wand gingerly at the tag bracelet that was visible from underneath Remus's cuff. The other man paled.

“Mylord?”

“That tag. It's a summoning device.”

“...Yes, mylord. I think so.”

Remus looked physically sick now and Sirius raised an eyebrow in question.

“Is something the matter, Lupin?”

“No, mylord,” came the answer, polite and calm as usual. “It is a summoning device, yes.”

He fell silent.

“...But?” Sirius prompted pointedly, adding enough edge to his voice to get his servant to spill the beans already. The werewolf shifted and averted his eyes.

“It's... not a pleasant experience, mylord. It's a means of punishment, in case...”

“...In case you run off,” Sirius finished and Remus nodded.

“Yes, mylord.”

“So have you run off before, Remus Lupin? Or how come you know?”

“No, mylord. I...” He hesitated. “I have been punished. Occasionally.”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow and pointed his wand to summon his glass of wine that stood on his bedside table, where he had put it down earlier. Sipping from it, he pondered his valet. Eventually he raised his wand and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. He shot a glance at the werewolf standing the usual three steps away.

“Walk out into the office,” he ordered.

“Mylord...”

“Walk out into the office.”

Something in Remus's shoulders twitched and Sirius couldn't keep back a smirk when his servant reluctantly nodded and turned to leave the bedroom and enter into the adjacent office.

“Stay where I can see you,” he called and Remus stopped a couple of steps through the open door.

“Turn around.”

Sirius looked at his servant standing in the light of the much brighter office and raised his wand, pointing it at him.

“Well, let's see, then...”

He gave his wand a swift flick and Remus gasped.

For a long second it was deadly still around them, then Sirius tilted his head back and began to laugh.

Out in the office, Remus stood, shaking from head to toe and staring down at the tag around his wrist that had begun to glow green. Sirius's laughter echoed in the sparsely furnished office.

“Stop trembling and get back in here, you idiot,” Sirius called and, blinking, his servant stumbled back into the darker master bedroom, his eyes wide. Sirius had stopped laughing and was looking sharply at the man in front of him.

“Mylord...”

“What? Did you think I couldn't do anything other than ripping your guts out with this?”

“I... I... thought...”

“You thought I was going to rip your guts out.”

“Yes... I mean... mylord, I...” Remus was still shaking and swallowing deep breaths of air. At some point he seemed to be jerking himself out of it and wet his lips. “I was... I was scared that you would.”

“I take it you wouldn't want me to,” Sirius replied flatly and Remus shook his head. Sirius leaned in a little closer and his voice fell to a whisper.

“Well, then I suggest you simply do not run off.”

Swiftly, he stepped past his servant, who looked mildly stunned for a second before turning around. Sirius was setting down his wine glass on a nearby shelf he kept his private books on.

“I won't,” Remus answered quietly and a shy smile reappeared on his face as he cast his eyes back to the floor. “Thank you, mylord.”

Sirius regarded him with a faint smile and added, “Well, and spread the word, will you?” He looked around the room. “Where did I put my gloves?”

“They're over here, mylord,” Remus replied, turning around to grab the pair of dragon-hide gloves lying on a cupboard by the door. He handed them to his master. “And... I will, if you wish. But... I don't think any of the others are thinking of running away. They like working for you.”

Sirius snorted and began to tear off his gloves again as soon as he'd put them on, when he felt the black ribbon that held his hair together at the back of his neck come loose. “They hardly work for _me_. They work in my garden and I swear, I wouldn't know one of them if I saw them about the house.”

Remus chuckled and handed him a comb, holding the gloves and the ribbon in the meantime.

“You are still their master and you are good to them.”

Sirius snorted again. “I am indifferent to them. As long as they do their work and don't cause havoc or disturb me or the house-elves, I couldn't care less about them...”

“That in itself can be enough to gain a servant's loyalty, mylord,” Remus replied calmly. “You don't punish them on principle for preferring outdoor work.”

“As long as they keep up with all other work they are responsible for, yes,” Sirius repeated pointedly, fixing his hair with the ribbon and lowering his arms. Taking his gloves back and handing the comb on, he raised an eyebrow at his servant.

“What about you, then? Wouldn't you rather weed a flowerbed somewhere than do paperwork and get hexed by my visitors?”

Remus couldn't help smiling.

“I don't mind so much, mylord.”

“Flattering me, are you?” Sirius answered dryly.

“Do you want me to flatter you, mylord?” the werewolf replied, still looking amused.

“Yes. Go ahead,” Sirius demanded, stepping up close to his valet. “Do you think I'm a good master, Remus Lupin?”

Remus glanced at him for a second, then looked like he was pondering a very serious matter. Eventually he frowned, biting his lips as he dared another glance, trying to keep a straight face.

“Well... I suppose I'm stuck with you, mylord.”

Sirius glared at him for a second, then snorted incredulously.

“I take that as a 'no', then. My staff would hardly think they were free to be this bold in my presence if I were any good as a master, correct...?”

He sniffed stiffly and adjusted the collar of his cloak, throwing a look at the clock. Almost time to go. He made to leave the bedroom and motioned his servant to follow.

“I'm sorry, mylord. I didn't mean to...”

“I know you didn't,” Sirius replied, rolling his eyes. He turned around and held out his gloved hand. They would go by Side-Along Apparition, since his mother did not have a servant's Floo; all her servants were house-elves. “I do have a sense of humour, you know,” he added dryly and Remus smirked almost invisibly as he raised his own hand to take his master's.

“Sometimes,” the werewolf muttered and with a cracking sound, they were gone.

*

“And here goes my good mood for the day,” Sirius groaned when they materialised in the gloomy entrance hall of Grimmauld Place. He turned to Remus, who looked a little off-balance. “You have the letter. Watch your tag like your life, I will be in a foul state if you miss the sign. Now come on...”

They reached the stairs, where Sirius noticed the face that Remus was eyeing the ornamented railings with.

“Make sure to appreciate my aunt Elladora's interior design. They tell me it was all the rage at the time.”

“Which time was that, mylord?”

“Judging by the finesse of the idea I should guess sometime during the early Middle Ages,” Sirius replied, “But I suppose to some it appears to be a timeless fashion. It's been a family tradition.”

Ascending the stairs, Sirius wrinkled his nose at the distorted faces of house-elf heads. Remus followed at a shorter distance than usual.

“I'm almost afraid to ask, mylord, but is that how I can picture myself looking in a hundred years' time?”

“I'm afraid you lack a certain component of house-elf blood to stay this nicely preserved,” Sirius answered, chuckling. “Your head wouldn't make half as pretty a sight as these here and the whole... aesthetics of the composition would be gone.”

“In that case, mylord, I shall of course content myself with keeping my head after my expiration.”

They had reached the top of the stairs and Sirius strode down a dark corridor to his mother's sitting room. He knocked once and opened the door without waiting for an invitation.

“Sirius.”

“Mother,” Sirius greeted her. “I was not aware of interrupting anything.”

Walburga was poised on a grand chair, her hair done up in her usual, elegant way and her outfit adorned with jewels in a rich, but not tasteless manner. Not far off, a distressed looking wizard was standing behind an easel, juggling brushes and a palette, flourishing his wand occasionally.

“You are not,” Walburga said, standing up. “We are finished for today. How much longer will you take?”

“At most two more sittings, mylady,” the wizard painter bowed and Walburga dismissed him with a gesture. He began to pack up his things and Disapparated, bowing so low, his nose almost touched the floor.

Sirius stepped over to the remaining canvas placed on the easel and looked at it critically.

“You're having a painting done, I see.”

“Why did you bring the creature?” Walburga ignored him, looking at Remus irritatedly. The werewolf stood by the door, not looking up.

“To train him,” Sirius explained off-handedly. “There will be times when he'll have to come along and I am not keen on embarrassing myself to the bone, thank you. Besides, I'm awaiting an important letter.”

“He will not stay in here,” Walburga wrinkled her nose and Sirius waved Remus away.

“Wait outside,” he ordered. “You are not to disturb us unless in case of emergency.”

“Yes, mylord.”

Sitting down in a chair opposite the settee his mother himself took a seat on, Sirius inwardly flinched when a house-elf suddenly popped up with tea. He didn't understand his mother's fondness of house-elves; he found the thought of servants who could Apparate unnerving.

“Tea, mylady,” the house-elf announced and Walburga nodded graciously.

“That will be all, Kreacher,” she replied and with a low bow, the house-elf was gone.

“I don't suppose you are going to tell me whose letter you're so anxiously awaiting,” Walburga stated rather than inquired, and Sirius, for lack of an answer, cleared his throat.

“Are you telling me you don't know already, mother?” he asked and his mother shot him an evil look. Sirius didn't care. “Since you have a habit of always being one step ahead of me. In fact, so far ahead, you seem to have anticipated my need for conception potion and organised its brewing already before I even knew whether I was going to marry at all, leave alone whether my potential bride was even fertile...”

His voice was sharp and Walburga glared at him. He decided to glare back.

“It never hurts to forge connections in time,” she said stonily and Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“I am the last person to deny it.” He took his cup of tea and raised it to his lips. “But I would politely ask you – again – to stop meddling with my affairs. It gets bothersome to hear of my supposed progress from other parties.”

“If you showed some more involvement...” his mother began, but he snorted.

“Mother, Lord Blishwick has been away on business in Scotland all of last week and you can hardly blame this fact on a lack of interest on my side. I am not going to drop dead tomorrow and neither are you. This marriage will be decided on this Tuesday. Come Wednesday I will or will not begin to arrange matters akin to the commissioning of conception potions and wedding invitations.”

Walburga looked disgruntled enough at her son's lecturing as she sipped on her tea. When he had finished, she put down her cup and looked at him. Her voice was calm, but there was a certain iciness about her that told him that she felt slighted by his treatment.

“I shall be happy to see it happen.”

“Good.” Sirius had to admit that he felt a little bad for his mother. While she did like to take control of a situation on her own terms, he did assume that, for some part at least, she had acted out of interest in the success of his endeavour. It was natural for her to display an interest in the continuation of the family bloodline.

It was quiet for a minute during which they both sipped at their tea. Eventually Walburga pressed her lips together.

“Have you at least looked at the pamphlets?”

“Yes. I have also decided to wait with the decision until we have the results of Octavia's examination,” Sirius replied politely, trying to be conciliatory. “We might be able to make a more educated choice of potion, then.”

With that, Sirius had earned himself a detailed discussion of the various advantages and disadvantages of various conception potions. While his mother elaborated on the importance of choosing one that would guarantee the highest possible conception, birth and survival rate at the fewest possible attempts, for the sake of everyone's dignity, Sirius found himself eyeing the clock with growing unrest. He considered it quite unnecessary to even discuss the matter at all, considering that in the end the Healers who would conduct Octavia's examination would recommend the ideal potion anyway. Yet people were unreasonably enthusiastic about making a fuss about future children.

If he was being realistic, Sirius couldn't see himself have any more personal contact with his offspring than his own father had had with him and his brother. His mother had been somewhat of a constant present in the background of his childhood, but the relationship between a father and his heirs was always a strange one, at least in the circles the Black family moved in.

Not that Sirius had disliked his father, or that his father had hated him. Their relationship had always been respectful and distantly affectionate – Sirius had honoured his father, not just out of a sense of duty, but because he hadn't really had a reason not to. But he supposed that it was difficult to forge an emotional bond with someone towards whose death your entire life was geared, when it came down to it. Sirius had been born the Black heir, bred and groomed and prepared all his life to take over the moment his father took his last breath. When the day had come, Sirius had found that the death of his father didn't feel like anything extraordinary; rather like something that had been a part of his life all along. Orion Black had watched his son grow up into a man whose entire potential seemed to be nothing but waiting for the day he died.

This could be expected to put a certain strain onto any father-son relationship, Sirius mused. He didn't really fool himself that his own heirs should feel any different about it.

“...and it certainly wouldn't do to produce only daughters,” his mother continued to lecture and Sirius suppressed a sigh, wishing nothing as much as getting out of Grimmauld Place. He subtly squinted at the clock and decided that one hour and fifteen minutes was all that he was willing to give to his mother of his Sunday. Shifting in his seat, he casually slid his hand into his robes to give his wand a slight flick. He pulled out a handkerchief when he extracted his hand again, wiping some imaginary drop of tea out of the corner of his mouth.

Outside, shuffling was audible and steps approached the door, then stopped as if hesitating. Either Lupin was actually nervous or he was simply putting on a good show. The handle was pressed down reluctantly and Remus stepped into the room.

“What is this?” Walburga cried, getting to her feet. “An outr-”

“Mylord, this letter just arrived this minute and it marked as utterly urgent. I do not wish to disturb, but you instructed...” Remus began to blabber nervously, holding out the letter to them.

“Show me.”

Sirius had already stood up from his chair and had motioned his mother to calm herself and sit back down. With the air of a man who was handling a dire situation, he walked over to his servant, his face stern. Remus handed him the envelope and Sirius pretended to be studying it intently.

“Mylord, a letter from Blishwick was actually delivered half an hour ago, but it's not urgent or anything...” Remus murmured almost inaudibly and Sirius nodded.

“Hand it over anyway. Thanks,” he breathed and subtly twisted the second envelope out from between Remus's fingers, which seemed to have permanent ink stains these days. Sirius nodded curtly and stepped back.

“Get back outside,” he ordered and Remus disappeared. Ripping open the letter from Blishwick, Sirius returned to sit with his mother.

“May I now inquire humbly who the letter is from, now that your animal valet has interrupted our conversation so rudely?” Walburga asked and Sirius nodded absent-mindedly, scanning the piece of parchment.

_To Lord Sirius Black  
Black Manor_

_Lord Black,_  
I write to inform you to my regret that our planned meeting this Tuesday, March 18th, will have to be postponed. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I find myself unable to return from Scotland at present and extend my apologies for any inconveniences this might cause you. Rest assured, my interest in any joint business you may want to propose remains. As soon as my return to London is predictable I will contact you immediately.  
Respectfully,  
Lord G. Blishwick 

“Lord Blishwick himself, mother,” Sirius said curtly and Walburga raised an eyebrow.

“And what does he have to say?”

“He has cancelled our appointment on Tuesday,” Sirius replied, enjoying the dramatic effect it had on his mother. “He is being held up in Scotland and his date of return is, at present, unknown.”

“Ridiculous!” his mother exclaimed. “How dare he! This is an outrage, a Blishwick cancelling upon the head of the House of Black! No matter how old he is... he should have dismissed his business in Scotland for this meeting!”

Sirius pursed his lips and folded the letter before pocketing it. He emptied his cup of tea.

“I have a strong suspicion that, were he there on his own business, he would have done so,” he stated and Walburga narrowed her eyes at her son.

“What do you mean?”

“Blishwick is involved in... private business...” - he emphasised it candidly - “with Rodolphus. There was a meeting in Rodolphus's rooms at Way the Lind the other week at the ball. Didn't you notice?”

“Are you involved in those matters too now, Sirius?” Walburga asked and Sirius chuckled as he got up and took her hand to raise it to his lips.

“I am no politician, mother. I am merely observant.” He kissed her hand and bowed his head lightly. “And if you will excuse me, this cancelled date has upset my schedule unexpectedly. As you see, I have actually made arrangements based on the assumption that there would be a wedding to plan...” he added pointedly.

Walburga looked frighteningly mollified at the statement and Sirius couldn't help feeling pleased with himself.

“I would very much like to take care of appointments that need postponing, so if you please, I shall leave you to your meddling now.” He smiled boyishly and Walburga sighed.

“Do so, then,” she said as she got up to lead him to the door. “But just to teach Blishwick a lesson, get in touch with one or two other pure-blood families who have daughters you could be expected to marry instead of Octavia, should you grow impatient.”

“Certainly, mother. Have a pleasant Sunday afternoon.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

Grabbing Remus, who waited patiently outside the door, Sirius Apparated them home.


	4. Semper eadem

“Tell me,” Sirius asked tetchily, “Do you perceive any difference at all between the homophones in 'your stupidity is incredible' and 'you're incredibly stupid', Remus Lupin?”

He pushed the report back at his servant, who tensed up.

“Yes, mylord.”

“Oh, do you really?” Sirius gritted his teeth. Remus shifted his weight uneasily and tightened his grip on the parchment, wrinkling it slightly.

“No, mylord... I don't know... perhaps... I don't know.”

Sirius sighed and rubbed his eyes. He could have screamed, had his head not already hurt.

“Great,” he groaned. “I'm not going to correct this. Do it again.”

“Well, perhaps you could _explain_ it to me,” Remus pressed out, “...mylord.”

Sirius's eyes shot up and he glared at his servant, who stared at the table top with an obstinate expression. An uncomfortable silence fell between them and Sirius thought he could hear the werewolf's every breath, far too loud and restless and not particularly soothing on Sirius's already unsettled nerves. Sirius couldn't have disliked full moons any more these days if he'd turned into a beast himself.

Remus swallowed hard and closed his eyes, struggling to regain control over himself. His jaw unclenched and his shoulders unfroze, if only a little. He put the parchment down on the desk and straightened it out while he took a couple of deep breaths.

“I apologise, mylord,” he said eventually, his voice calm and quiet. “I was out of line.”

Sirius contemplated him without answering and eventually nodded, accepting the apology.

“Write the letter again,” he ordered. “Copy it and just substitute 'you are' whenever you think it's possible. When you're done, leave and have an outdoor task assigned to you by the head house-elf.”

“Yes, mylord.”

Remus had barely sat down and got out a new roll of parchment by the time the door flew open, causing a stack of loose paper on Remus's desk to fly and scatter all over his desk. Bellatrix Lestrange stormed in and Sirius caught his servant glaring at the visitor unnoticed behind her back before he stooped to pick up what had fallen down.

“Sirius!” Bellatrix exclaimed enthusiastically as she strode over to her cousin, who had only just had the time to get up from his chair. “Great news!”

She pulled him over to the settee and made him sit down next to her.

“What happened?” Sirius asked, trying to sound less tired and unnerved than he was.

“Blishwick,” Bellatrix explained. “Apparently he got notice of you contacting other families – nice move, by the way. Anyway, he's planned his return to London as soon as possible and he wants you to know again that he'll be in touch.”

“How do you know?” Sirius asked and Bellatrix grinned.

“Rodolphus, of course. And I have my other sources...” She shuffled a little closer. “I also happen to know that Blishwick's been corresponding with his lawyers and with Healers who specify in, let's say, areas that are indicative of Blishwick's intentions. He's getting prepared to marry his daughter, Sirius!”

Sirius leaned back, away from Bellatrix imposing on his personal space. A pleased smirk was pulling at the corners of his mouth. He conjured up two glasses and summoned a bottle of wine from the next room.

“Is he indeed? Well, this is good news, I should say...”

Bellatrix smiled and nodded, accepting a glass from Sirius, but not actually drinking any of the wine he poured her.

“I suppose your own lawyers are informed and already working out conditions?”

“Of course. I had it arranged already last week. I figured whether I married Octavia or someone else, having my demands formulated and settled would come in handy in any case. But I suppose now I can tell them to... specify the details.”

“Certainly,” she confirmed and got up, setting the glass down on the nearby windowsill. “Actually, I can't stay, much as I'd like to. I have been summoned to meet the Dark Lord shortly. I only dropped by so I could be the first to inform you of this.”

Getting up, Sirius bowed his head and smiled.

“Thank you very much, Bellatrix. You have certainly made my day a fair deal better.” He kissed her forehead. “I will be in touch.”

Nodding and lightly pressing his hand, she turned to leave as swiftly as she had come, casually flicking her wand at Remus's desk as she strode through the door and Disapparated. The entirety of papers and parchment on the secretary's desk went up in a whirling cloud of parchment, fluttering through the air around him at rapid speed.

Sirius rolled his eyes and walked over to close the door before he aimed his wand at Remus and caused the paper to stop flying and instead fall to the ground.

Dropping to his knees amidst the heap of parchment chaos, Remus began to furiously gather up documents, letters, spare rolls, tables of numbers, parchment, note paper, some of it torn. His movements were erratic and vaguely violent and he didn't look up.

“Sh-...” he pressed out and jerked his hand away when a sharp edge cut across the hell of his hand. Holding it away from the paper to prevent blood getting smeared over everything, he looked at the cut, dabbing at it with his other hand. He got to his feet and started to look for a handkerchief among the mess on his desk, careful not to accidentally drip blood anywhere. His lips were a tight, tight line, Sirius noticed as he stood and watched.

“Wait,” he eventually interrupted and stepped up to his servant, grabbing his hand. For a moment he thought Remus was going to be stubborn about it, but eventually he let his hand be inspected. Aware of how agitated the werewolf was, Sirius kept his voice matter-of-fact and calm.

“Maybe it would be better if you cleaned this up after the moon and took the rest of the day off... help the others in the garden.”

Remus's head jerked around and for a moment, Sirius could see the anger bubbling under the surface.

“I'm sorry, mylord,” Remus replied, cringing when Sirius's finger touched the cut on his hand. “Sometimes it's harder to... stay indifferent.”

“I know,” Sirius answered and pulled his wand. He watched how Remus's eyes were fixed on the tip of the wand as it pointed at the palm of his hand, almost as if he was hypnotised by it. His eyelashes fluttered when Sirius quietly cast the spell and he seemed fascinated by the way his skin knit itself back together. Sirius lowered his wand and ran his thumb across the healed cut.

Remus blinked and breathed deeply, slowly turning his head to look at his master. He seemed to be about to say something, but before he could utter a sound Sirius had leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

The room was completely quiet, except for the rush of blood in their ears as they stood there, touching nowhere but their hands and lips.

Sirius had never actually thought kissing through to the point at which someone might be kissing him back. As it was, he was almost overwhelmed by the fact that Remus was. Hesitantly, fingers clasped his own where they still rested over the now closed cut and Sirius awkwardly moved his lips back against Remus's. He could feel warm breath against his face and felt a shiver somewhere down his spine. Breathing through his nose he leaned in closer, letting his lips part with the kiss, when Remus suddenly jerked away, letting go of his hand.

“Mylord...” he breathed, panting lightly. His hands were fumbling for the edge of the table and he took a step back. “I'm sorry... I...”

Sirius stood like frozen, noticing how Remus's chest was heaving out of rhythm and his movements conveyed utter distress. His eyes were darting across the floor restlessly and it wasn't until he moved that Remus looked up and Sirius caught his eyes. 

Sirius straightened up and composed himself. Remus looked miserable.

“Mylord, I can... I can only feel... this. I'm sorry...”

“Take the rest of the day off,” Sirius ordered with a cool, level voice. “You can take care of this mess after the full moon. Go.”

Remus nodded and hurried out of the room. Sirius looked after him and then spelled the door shut with a loud slam that had him flinch. He stared at the parchment mess on the floor for a moment, spotting a much scribbled on piece of note paper that Remus had practised his quill writing on. It read his own name, _Remus Lupin_ , over and over again. There were the words _werewolf, secretary_ and _valley_ , which made Sirius smile despite himself. There was also _House of Black_ and _Sirius Black_ , as he noticed, a number of times, in varying legibility. _Lord Sirius Black_.

Sirius shook his head and went back to his desk. He sat down, looking about for something to do. Anything. He wished he hadn't dealt with his correspondence for the day already. Surely there was someone who could do with a letter from Sirius Black. He grabbed a handful of parchment rolls and wrote elaborate letters filled with numerous instructions to the managers of three different branches of the Black empire. Eventually, he blew them apart with a swish of his wand, deciding he had never written anything more inarticulate and grammatically dubious. He grabbed the Daily Prophet and decided to read everything he had skipped when he'd read it in the morning and enjoy occasionally scowling at the sheer stupidity and short-sightedness of some particular columnists. When he had finished the second article, he burned the newspaper, too. 

He had been pacing for a while when an owl knocked at the window and he realised it was dark outside. He went to get the letter and his heart beat louder in his ears when he saw whom it was from. Finally. Something to distract himself with. Reading the note, he hastily scribbled a reply and sent it back with the same owl that had brought it.

Looking after the bird as it disappeared into the night, he wondered whether the irritating sounds were faint noises coming up from the cellar, where his werewolves were currently doing whatever it was they were doing. It took him a moment to conclude that, more likely, it was the rushing of his own blood in his ears. Somewhere in the back of his neck a tingly sensation was causing him a headache.

He retired early that night, deciding that some light reading and a good night's sleep would be the easiest cure to the unbearable, dragging endlessness of the day. It wasn't until he had read the same page four times without taking in any of its content that he gave up and extinguished the lights.

Lying the darkness he told himself that nobody ever had to know. Nobody would ever notice it. In fact, he could even pretend that he himself didn't notice how, when he came, it was to the memory of the look of raw desire flickering in Remus Lupin's eyes and the feeling of his lips moving against Sirius's own.

***

“Lord Black,” came the greeting as Sirius entered the grand dining room. “I trust you had a restful night? I gave orders for you not to be woken.”

Nodding politely, Sirius took a seat to Lord Blishwick's right, where a house-elf had pulled out the chair for him.

“Thank you, I slept very well indeed,” he replied, motioning the house-elf to pour him tea. He didn't feel hungry; the festive supper of the previous night didn't seem like so long ago. Pompous meals at least twice a day seemed to be customary in the Blishwick household, which certainly accounted for Lord Blishwick's waistline, but made Sirius wonder just how Octavia managed to keep her shape. Sirius himself felt like he had eaten more during the three days of his stay in their house than he had in the two weeks before. Not that Lord Blishwick's return and message on the night of the full moon hadn't come as a welcome occasion to get away from business for a while, but Sirius didn't sleep well on a full stomach; he was in fact quite happy that they had ended the previous day with a light celebration dinner and generous amounts of wine instead.

“Have you made any plans for today?” his host's voice suddenly interrupted Sirius's pensive morning mood and he shook his head, setting down his teacup.

“Not really, but I daresay that I will need to look after some business matters of mine that have had to be neglected because of your generous invitation the other day,” he replied. “I cannot leave my office unattended for more than three days, I'm afraid. Especially in busy times such as these.”

“Certainly,” Blishwick nodded, “although I was hoping to persuade you to stay for dinner. My son Augustus has informed me that he will join us to celebrate the success of our... negotiations. If you wish to take care of business matters or contact your office, I will be very pleased to have a quiet room with a Floo connection prepared for your convenience. And, of course, place any number of owls at your service that you should require.”

Sirius smiled politely and nodded.

“I think I can hardly decline an offer so tempting, Lord Blishwick. I will be honoured to stay and meet your son at the celebratory dinner before returning to my own manor tonight.”

“I will have everything arranged,” the older man replied, summoning and instructing a house-elf to have a room outfitted. Sirius had only just finished his second cup of tea by the time the creature reappeared and bowed.

“The room is ready, Master Black. Whenever you please to see it, I will be glad to show it to you.”

Sirius nodded and turned to Blishwick.

“If you don't mind, Lord Blishwick, I will write a message to my office immediately. I expect it will take a little to redirect all important mail here and I do not wish to waste any more time.”

When Blishwick nodded, Sirius got up and followed the elf out of the room. They walked up the stairs and down the long corridor that led to the far wing of the building, which pleased Sirius fine, considering that it was bound to be quiet and he wasn't so likely to be disturbed.

“Good morning,” a voice suddenly spoke and Sirius halted to turn around. He smiled pleasantly.

“Good morning, mylady,” he answered when Octavia Blishwick stepped up to him and commanded the house-elf away.

“I was hoping to find you quickly,” she said when they continued to walk in the direction she indicated. “A letter arrived for you.” She handed him an envelope and Sirius pocketed it without looking at it more closely. He recognised his own seal and knew it must have come from Black Manor.

“Thank you, mylady,” he smiled and offered his arm to her as they reached another flight of stairs. Octavia took it, smirking with amusement.

“So, _Sirius_...” she began and he chuckled.

“ _Octavia._ ”

“Spring wedding it is, then?”

“Looks like it,” he answered and threw her a sideways glance. His stay at Blishwick Manor had been a lot more pleasant than he had originally expected when he had accepted the invitation on a whim. A day into the negotiations with her father, a Healer had sent the results of Octavia's examination and everything had been easily settled thereafter. On the tenth of May, Sirius was going to marry Octavia Blishwick. It was a bit more than a month until then, ample time to organise a wedding with the resources of their families, commission the required potions and settle all other legal and personal matters.

Octavia herself had been barely present at the negotiations and Sirius had to admit that he would have preferred leaving the job to his lawyers and having a drink in the meantime too, but since Lord Blishwick had been there in person, Sirius had figured that he better make the same effort. He had, however, had occasion to spend some time with his future wife every now and then.

Octavia was as little deluded about the nature of their marriage as Sirius himself was. Her older brother was the heir of the family and there were no responsibilities upon her regarding the maintaining of the family name. She had deliberately chosen to marry rather than remain in her father's house, which would have been her right. She knew that she was a good enough catch to marry well and gain influence and power that would be out of her reach otherwise. As an old maid living with her father she could do nothing, as the Lady of the House of Black, however, there were only a few things that she wouldn't be able to do.

She carried a certain air of gentle nobility about her; by far not as impressive as his mother or Bellatrix, but she would learn in time. She was not stupid and even though Sirius didn't quite grasp her sense of humour they got along fine. Since she already ran half of her widowed father's household, she would not have trouble taking care of Black Manor and she was independent and strong enough to keep things in line without his help. All things considered, she was proving to be a good choice, after all.

“Here we are,” she finally announced, opening a door and motioning him to enter. “Should you need anything else, a house-elf will be with you as soon as you ring the bell on the desk.”

Sirius looked around the room. There was a window with an outside roost for owls to land on and three of them were already sitting there. A grand, fully equipped writing desk and chair stood close to a fireplace; a bowl of what Sirius assumed was Floo powder stood on top of the mantelpiece. Water was available from a crystal jug close by.

“It's perfect,” Sirius smiled. “Thank you very much, Octavia.”

“You are most welcome, Sirius,” she chuckled and grabbed the doorknob. “I will leave you to your work, then. Lunch will be served at twelve thirty, if you care to join us. I wish you a pleasant day.”

“Thank you. I suppose I will see you at the latest at dinner.”

When she had left and the sound of her steps had died away, Sirius sat down at the desk and pulled the envelope she had given him out of his pocket. It weighed heavy in his hands and he pondered the wax seal for a moment. Turning the envelope over, he read his own name, written unmistakeably by Remus Lupin's hand, looking a lot more fluent these days than it had when he'd begun working.

Inside the envelope, apparently enchanted by one of his house-elves, Sirius was a little surprised to find a stack of letters, neatly sorted by the day they had been delivered; what looked like the most important ones were marked with a red slip of paper. Sirius noticed that he'd received two letters from his mother over the last three days, a bunch of letters from various managers who were probably reporting on their respective businesses, a note from Bellatrix and two from Lucius Malfoy.

Sighing, he decided his mother probably deserved priority, but since he couldn't imagine what she could possibly have to contribute that was of immediate importance, he read Bellatrix's note first. Disappointingly enough it was merely an invitation to visit her as soon as he was back at Black Manor and had read her note. She had with certainty heard of his engagement by now and was anxiously waiting to discuss it with him.

Putting the note aside, he turned to his mother's letters, reading them both before composing one answer in which he confirmed the date of the wedding, outlined the arrangements already made and detailed the specifics of the marriage contract with as few words as possible without sounding like he was being vague on purpose. He would have to visit her anyway and tell her everything she could ever want to know about the negotiations, so he wanted to keep his letter concise. He didn't apologise for replying with delay; instead mentioned in a side remark how he had been away and stayed at Blishwick Manor as a guest for three days. He hoped it would suffice.

When he had sent off the first owl, he went through the stack of letters, wondering which ones to read next. In terms of respect he should have read Lucius's letter, since he was probably more important than random employees who reported back to him about their week's progress...

Frowning as he came across a loose, folded piece of parchment among the many, individually sealed envelopes, he unfolded it and began to read.

_Mylord,_  
 _I apologise if your stay at Blishwick Manor is unpleasantly interrupted by this owl; I did not mean to cause disturbance. Since you gave no indication of the date of your return, I thought it wise to forward the mail from your most important correspondents to you, should any of it be of pressing urgency. Their sorted by date; I took the liberty of marking personal and private business letters in red._  
 _Hoping your business negotiations are going well,_  
 _Your servant,_  
 _Remus Lupin_

_PS: Lucius Malfoy sent two Howlers yesterday. The house-elves have taken care of the burn marks by the windowsill and on the carpet, but, if I may be so bold as to humbly suggest that you inform him of your current absence from Black Manor, further such incidents might be prevented. Thank you, mylord._

Sirius chuckled at the thought of Lucius getting furious and desperate enough to send not only one, but two Howlers in one day. He could imagine the mess they must have made when they'd exploded and he was glad enough that all of his documents were charmed fireproof. He hadn't ever thought of protecting the carpet, too...

Thoughtfully his eyes trailed over the careful, neat handwriting on the parchment. He didn't really want to smile at the spelling error when it jumped out at him again, but he couldn't help it. He knew he should have scowled and wondered whether his servant would ever, _ever_ learn. Turning the letter over in his hand, he toyed with the thought of correcting the error and sending it back to Black Manor, but eventually decided against it. He wasn't really in the mood for being snarky to his secretary, especially when he had been considerate enough to save Sirius the pain of writing a letter with instructions to forward his mail.

Sirius hadn't paid the day of the last full moon much thought since he had left Black Manor early the following morning to follow Blishwick's invitation. His mind had been blissfully occupied and when he had finally had a moment to worry about matters at home, he had concluded that it wasn't worth making a fuss about it. Remus worked hard and Sirius appreciated the genuine loyalty with which the werewolf was carrying out his duties. Replacing him would not only be inconvenient, but it was altogether giving the incident too much credit. Sirius had been stressed and, in his already unnerved state, sensitive to the werewolf's animal physicality, enhanced by the fact that the full moon had been impending. What had happened had been a momentary reaction to his own restlessness and the biggest part of the awkwardness afterwards had resulted from the werewolf's limited capacity of interpreting emotion.

In conclusion, Sirius appreciated Remus as a faithful servant and as such he would continue to keep him around, with the exception of full moon days. His physical 'distress' had originated from a general restlessness he seemed to be infected by these days and that had little to do with Remus, even if he might have contributed to it by distracting him. It meant nothing. It could be avoided, and Sirius would see to it in the future.

Shaking his head at the letter absent-mindedly, he pondered it for another moment before folding it and pocketing it away. He turned back to the stack of letters. Lucius next, then...

***

When Sirius stepped out of the Floo into his own bedroom, he was surprised to find dampened light coming from his office. Frowning, he decided to see whether the house-elves were busy cleaning, or simply snooping around. He opened the door quietly and looked in. The office looked generally unoccupied and only one of the small wall lamps was burning. He stepped out of his bedroom and looked towards the source of the light, giving a slight start.

“What are you doing?” he blurted out and Remus's head jerked up in surprise.

“Mylord... I did not know you would return tonight...”

“I did not announce it. What are you doing here?”

Remus put down his quill and took a deep breath, standing up.

“With your permission, mylord, I was working.”

“Working,” Sirius replied, throwing a glance at the clock. It was not long past eight – the Blishwicks took an early dinner, favouring midnight snacks if they got hungry again. “Whatever are you working on at this hour, if I may ask?”

Remus looked uncomfortable and shifted his hands, as full of ink stains as ever, only that one of them was half bandaged and the arm looked stiffer than usual when he fidgeted.

“I'm sorry, mylord,” the werewolf began, “I was behind on last month's report and was hoping to catch up with it as quickly as possible, in case of your return. It is here,” he added, pointing at a folder on his desk. “I finished it, but I still have this month's records to keep up to date, mylord, that is, if you still want me to...” He flinched and paused, composing himself a little. “I'm sorry, I did not mean to trespass, mylord.”

Sirius looked at him, feeling a little stunned by the amount of words coming from Remus's mouth in one consecutive stream. Collecting his wits he cleared his throat and walked up to his secretary's desk, grabbing the finished folder and lazily browsing through it. Now that he was closer to both the light and the man, he could see that Remus looked ragged and exhausted. He had loosened the top buttons of his shirt and signs of another bandage across his chest were visible.

“What happened to you?” Sirius asked casually and Remus blushed.

“The full moon transformation was... slightly more violent than expected, mylord.”

“Has it been taken care of?”

“Yes, mylord,” Remus replied softly. “The Healer ordered me to stay in bed for half a day after I had regained consciousness. I was only able to return to work on the second day of your absence and therefore fell behind... I'm sorry, mylord.”

Sirius cocked an eyebrow, then shrugged.

“You can catch up on the rest tomorrow.” Before Remus could say anything, he added, “You will continue to work in your position as my personal secretary, with the exception of full moon days, on which you will work as far away from me as possible because your restlessness is irritating me to a point where I get restless myself. Is that clear?”

“Yes, mylord,” Remus nodded and Sirius put the file down on the table. He contemplated the other man for a moment, then smiled.

“You may retire for tonight.”

“Thank you, mylord.”

“It was very thoughtful of you to forward my letters to me. I appreciate that.”

It wasn't a lie; Sirius did appreciate it. He had only just been able to prevent a major catastrophe because the manager of the potions supplies factory had spontaneously developed a brand new production concept that would quite certainly have rendered the company bankrupt within a week. Sirius had fired him at the very last minute.

“I'm glad to be of help, mylord,” Remus replied simply before he bowed and quietly stepped away to the door. “Goodnight, mylord.”

“Goodnight.”

***

Two weeks later Remus had, to Sirius's delight, made a habit out of sorting incoming mail into three stacks – important business matters and private correspondence that Sirius took care of himself as usual, random household-related bills, advertisements and requests for appointments that Remus handled according to standard procedure and, thirdly, wedding-related mail that Remus looked through before passing on the ones that were important to his master.

Not that the filter was completely infallible; frequent letters from his mother still went through to Sirius directly, and while he tended to simply refer her to Octavia, he still had to put up with the hassle of answering her in more than one sentence. He had delegated most of the organisational power regarding the wedding to Octavia pretty early on, which she didn't seem to mind very much, even though he suspected that she was rather fed up with Walburga's constant commentary herself. Sirius's only responsibility in arranging the ceremony was providing money and the location; everything was going to take place in the gardens of Black Manor or, in case of rain, indoors in the great ballroom. So far, all Sirius had done was order his werewolves and house-elves to tidy and clean the rooms and get the gardens into shape now that April had definitely brought spring to the country. Octavia had asked him to wait with the decorations until she had battled out the colour scheme with his mother and settled minor details that appeared to be of utmost importance to Walburga. Sirius had smirked and felt a little bad for his bride when he had read her last message a couple of days ago.

“Mylord, with your permission I will go and owl your letters,” Remus's voice caused Sirius to look up from his Daily Prophet. Sirius nodded and looked if there was anything he had forgot to put on his stack of outgoing mail. When his secretary had left, he returned to the article he'd been reading, glad that this time the newspaper actually provided some decent distraction from all things marriage.

It looked like Rodolphus was getting his rebellion, after all. Even though he still hadn't passed his ridiculous amendment to the Werewolf Act, it looked like there was something going on. A little more than a week ago there had been a fire in near Glasgow that nobody appeared to be able to account for and that had destroyed a considerably large part of the city. Further rumours of minor conflicts and general unrest near Edinburgh were reaching London. Often the signs were vague enough; some small duel in a pub here and a drunken brawl there, but Sirius knew Rodolphus Lestrange well enough to connect the dots and assume that he was probably not entirely uninvolved. Rodolphus was not a patient man and if he had to wait too long for signs of rebellion, he was not above helping the matter along. Blishwick had hardly been up in Scotland to count sheep, or for recreational purposes.

The door opened and Remus returned, carrying two letters in his hand.

“What is it?” Sirius asked, when both were placed on his desk.

“A letter from Lady Blishwick, mylord. And one from Severus Snape.”

Figuring that there was only so much the potions master could be wanting to tell him apart from the progress in the brewing process, Sirius opened Octavia's letter and leaned back in his chair. As usual, she briefly updated him on her planning, informing him of the main decisions she had taken and while he knew he had a right to object if something displeased him, he was far too happy with the way she handled matters to ever actually complain. He chuckled lightly when he read about a particularly long discussion she had had with Walburga over the overall colour scheme at the wedding and cocked an eyebrow when it turned out that Octavia had actually stood her ground on the matter. Lilac and silver it would be, then.

“Tell the house-elves and your fellow werewolves that the wedding will be held in shades of lilac,” he instructed Remus with a grin and the werewolf nodded, looking amused.

“I see that Lady Black seems to have changed her mind about royal blue?”

“It seems to be that way,” Sirius replied, looking smug. “As far as I understood it my bride reminded her kindly that as the mother of the groom she was of course free to wear whichever colour she pleased, but 'that there was no need to impose her preferences on the entire wedding and the bride herself'. And that, apart from that, royal blue was 'not the colour for a spring wedding'.”

The two men shared a moment of quiet amusement. They both knew that Walburga would soon send her own version of the conversation and probably phrase it differently, but for the time being they were pleased to see that Octavia was not letting herself be pushed over.

“Send a note to Madam Malkin's,” Sirius eventually said, “And have an appointment made for the beginning of next week. I need someone to come and take care of my wedding robes. Tell them to keep them black, with silver and amethyst ornaments.”

“Certainly mylord,” Remus nodded and went back to his desk. “Do you want me to take your reply along when I post the order?”

“My reply?” Sirius asked and Remus nodded at Octavia's letter. “I don't need to reply to this; I have no objections or comments.”

“I see, mylord. I'm sorry.”

Sirius scowled and crossed his arms.

“She does not expect me to reply.”

“Of course, mylord. Forgive me for jumping to conclusions.”

“Are you saying I should reply to her? What for, just to be nice?”

A moment of tension passed and Remus shook his head.

“I did not mean to imply anything; I was simply mistaken about the matter. I apologise.”

Sirius watched with a stern face how his secretary turned to the letter to Madam Malkin's and glared at the top of his lowered head for a moment. Eventually, he snorted derisively and pulled out a piece of parchment himself. Grabbing his quill he tried to think of something he could possibly tell his fiancée, apart from 'thank you for informing me' and 'congratulations to your victory over my mother's iron will'. After a moment's thought he added that he was going to instruct his servants to adjust the decorations according to her orders and that everything else was going well. He signed the letter and sealed it just in time to send it flying to Remus's desk with a flick of his wand.

Taking it as he got up to leave for the Owlery, Remus nodded politely.

“Thank you, mylord.”

Sirius huffed and turned back to his newspaper, trying to find the line he had stopped at. Rodolphus Lestrange had had it announced that he was working at settling the recent unrest in the Ministry and the country at large and was going to provide a thorough plan to stabilise the current status quo before the month was out. Well, it was to be seen what would come of that...

***

“This is ridiculous!” Sirius exclaimed, turning on the little stool he was standing on. “I should be able to dress myself for my own wedding when the day comes, shouldn't I?”

“I should think so, mylord,” Remus smiled, fastening a clasp at his master's shoulder. “But from what I can gather from Madam Malkin's letter, it is not customary.”

Sirius snorted and stretched his neck uncomfortably, tugging at the high collar of his coat.

“It's _too tight_ ,” he complained. “I can't even breathe. I'll choke to death before I ever get to marry anyone...”

Fumbling with the top button, Sirius groaned and gave up, fidgeting and holding up his chin for Remus to loosen the collar. Squinting he could see the werewolf's focused expression as he leaned a little closer to take off the amethyst ornament before opening the little silver button. Sirius flinched a little when he felt his fingertips touch his skin, but breathed deeply when the pressure of the collar was suddenly gone. Remus stepped back and Sirius rubbed his throat.

“This is much better. Note down that we need to tell them to make the collar wider. They have a week to change it, it should be within their abilities...”

“Yes, mylord,” Remus replied, taking a note on a piece of parchment, then halting. “Maybe it would be better if we got one of Madam Malkin's assistants t-”

“No,” Sirius cut him off, thinking with horror of the half-breeds the woman employed. “They're wheezy and tiny and their voices are high and giggly; _they make my skin crawl_.” He glared at Remus, who merely nodded politely. “It's bad enough that I need help at all to get into these silly robes; I'm not going to have a complete stranger hopping around in my personal space. This is bad enough.”

For a moment Remus said nothing and stood back, just enough for Sirius to calm his nerves and regain his composure a little. It took him a minute, but eventually he felt ready to get it over with, soothed by the fact that Remus was calm and going about the whole fitting business with a matter-of-fact attitude. It was really Sirius's own restlessness that made him so jumpy. He had to be helped into his clothes like a little boy...

“See if everything falls neatly at the back,” he quietly ordered and Remus nodded, walking around the stool to look at the folds of heavy fabric cascading down Sirius's back. He gently pulled at the folds here and there, but on the whole kept his distance as to not unsettle Sirius any more than necessary.

“It looks perfect,” he commented politely and Sirius checked himself in the mirror as well as he could, nodding.

“I suppose it'll do then,” Sirius replied and sighed. “Get me out of this, will you?”

“Yes, mylord.”

Undoing the clasp at his master's shoulder from behind, Remus lifted the first layer of fabric off, stepping away and putting it down on the bed carefully. Sirius eyed him thoughtfully and nodded when Remus approached him again, as to give him permission to unbutton the front of his coat. Ironically enough even this proved impossible for Sirius himself because of the intricate ornamenting that made it difficult to determine just what was a hook and what was merely fragile and intricate adornment.

Trying to distract himself from the fact that he was helplessly waiting to be undressed, Sirius watched his servant's face, that was frowning in concentration as he unhooked and unbuttoned the front of the wedding robes. Halfway down Sirius's chest, a hook was stuck and Remus grimaced, hesitantly leaning a little closer to inspect just what the problem was. Apart from being sinfully expensive, the ornaments were appropriately delicate.

“This better pay off,” Sirius muttered, looking down at himself and rolling his eyes. Remus chuckled and glanced up for a second.

“I'm sure, mylord,” he replied. “In fact, Lady Blishwick might have to be warned to give her own robes all the effort that can be spared.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Being funny again, Remus Lupin? Flattering me?”

“No, mylord,” Remus answered, smiling and straightening up when he had undone the last button. When he pulled the front of the coat apart slightly to check if all the hooks and buttons were open, Sirius was vaguely aware that he could hear the other man's breath, calm and deep. He swallowed when Remus suddenly stepped away and left him to take off the coat himself. Shaking it off his shoulders, Sirius handed it over, grabbing his everyday robes quickly and putting them on. He wanted to get out of his bedroom, where the fireplace seemed to be eating up all the air in the room and making him fidgety.

“Open the window when you're done putting away the robes,” he instructed and walked over into his office, noticing Bellatrix's owl knocking at the window.

The letter was sealed magically, to be opened only by Sirius himself, by magical signature. This was important, obviously, and Sirius fumbled for his wand, only to notice that he had left it in his bedroom.

“Bring me my wand!” he called to Remus, who was emerging from the bedroom in this moment. The werewolf looked taken aback.

“Mylord?”

“My wand,” Sirius repeated. “It's on my bedside table. Get it and bring it to me. This is urgent, so hurry up...”

Remus shifted uncomfortably and hesitated.

“Mylord, I can't...”

“Oh, for goodness's sake,” Sirius groaned. “I won't punish you and I won't tell anyone, so just get the wand and bring it here... please!” he added and Remus nodded slowly, shuffling back into the bedroom. Sirius watched how he returned, carrying Sirius's wand by the tip, walking fast as if he was trying to get it away from him as quickly as possible. Sirius did see why he would be nervous, actually. A wand was a wizard's tool and no lower creature was allowed to use one. It was punishable by death for a servant like Remus to wield a wand and the definition of 'wielding' usually started with touching.

“Thank you,” he muttered as he took his wand from Remus's hand and unsealed the letter. He noticed Remus's discomfort and wondered whether the werewolf was actually afraid that Sirius would trick him; he himself hadn't even considered the possibility that Remus would try to use his own wand against him. In fact, he wasn't even sure whether he even could have done any magic with it.

“Stop worrying,” he said, pocketing his wand. “I won't ask you to do it again if it bothers you so much.”

Remus swallowed and nodded, retreating to his desk while Sirius read Bellatrix's note.

_Sirius,_  
 _Great news! Rodolphus's amendment got passed this afternoon. Come over immediately; there are important things to discuss.  
Bellatrix_


	5. Fleurs du Mal

Way the Lind was unusually chaotic and Sirius could hear a number of reporters calling for Rodolphus from outside when he Apparated into the marble entrance hall. Scowling at them as they called his name, he motioned Remus to follow him inside and they headed up the stairs. Walking down the corridor towards Bellatrix's room they could hear loud voices ahead and Remus seemed to shrink noticeably when he heard Bellatrix shrieking, followed by a loud bang.

“... _I served the Dark Lord himself!_ ” a deep voice roared and the sound of breaking glass followed. Sirius slowed his steps and frowned.

“Sirius,” Rodolphus's voice suddenly gave him a start and Sirius turned around to see the politician stepping out of a side room and walking up to him. “Bellatrix sent you a note?”

“Yes,” Sirius nodded and Rodolphus threw a look down the corridor, where the door had just visibly shaken.

“Unexpected interruption. She's having a little... disagreement...” he said, unnecessarily enough, “with Fenrir Greyback.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow and flinched when something appeared to be exploding inside Bellatrix's room from the sound of it. Rodolphus didn't look very impressed and didn't bat an eyelid when the sound of a curse colliding with the wall was audible. Sirius, who tried his best not to flinch at the sudden and loud noise, cleared his throat.

“I take it he's not very pleased with your newly passed amendment to the Werewolf Act? Congratulations, by the way,” he tried to make conversation and Rodolphus shrugged, looking smug.

“He'll get over it. He knew it was going to happen; this is just a tantrum he's throwing because Bellatrix told him to surrender his wand.”

“What?” Sirius looked confused and Rodolphus began to rummage in his pockets.

“Yes, she owns him now, didn't you know?” he asked off-handedly. “Since he needed to be someone's legal property as soon as the proposition got through, they struck up a deal a while ago. Greyback is now on Bellatrix's leash and he seems to have certain difficulties coping... for the moment.”

Sirius didn't reply, but heard Remus shift slightly behind him when Greyback snarled some more behind the door at the end of the corridor.

“How's the wedding preparations going?” Rodolphus asked, looking at a piece of paper he had just pulled out of his pockets and Sirius shrugged.

“As they tend to go, one and a half weeks before the wedding,” he replied casually and Rodolphus nodded absent-mindedly. He blinked up at Sirius and motioned with the small sheet of paper.

“I can imagine. Listen, I need to be at the Ministry. I'm making a public speech announcing the new law in a bit less than half an hour and I need to get ready.” He threw a glance down the hall. “I suggest you wait until she's done with Greyback before you go in there.”

“Certainly. Good luck for your speech,” Sirius replied and Rodolphus Disapparated.

The door at the end of the corridor flew open and with a roar, the huge figure of Fenrir Greyback was catapulted out. He landed hard on the marble floor and jumped to his feet, screaming like a beast. He made to get back into the room, but the door was slammed shut in his face and after banging and roared against it for good measure, he turned around and stormed down the hall, bristling with anger.

He glared at Sirius from his ice blue eyes and made to storm past him, when he seemed to be catching a scent and slowed down. His gaze rested on Remus, who stood frozen behind his master.

“Well, well... never thought I'd see you again, pup...” he suddenly grinned, baring his teeth as he stepped closer, licking his lips. “Remember me? Or have you conveniently forgotten?”

Remus didn't reply, but just glared at Greyback with a stony expression. Sirius pulled his wand.

“Get away from my valet,” he ordered calmly and Greyback cackled madly to himself. Suddenly, out of the blue, he whirled around and, with one sweeping movement, knocked the wand out of Sirius's hand. Grabbing him by the throat he threw him into the wall and snarled at him, his face an inch away from Sirius's.

“And who are you to give me orders, Black?” he growled. “ _Your_ valet. You've got him because I made him; funny, that – don't you even _try_ , pup!” he spat when Remus made to move behind his back. Remus froze in his movement and looked at Sirius past the bulky figure of Fenrir Greyback, eyes wide. Greyback snickered.

“Nice and obedient, is he?” His breath was hot in Sirius's face and Sirius tried not to stare at the sharp teeth in the werewolf's mouth, but instead looked past his head at Remus, who eyed Sirius's wand on the floor not far off. Sirius tried to shake his head, but Greyback shoved him further into the wall, licking his lips again and again.

“Ironic, isn't it?” he snickered. “How I'm nothing but a slave, apparently, but I still have you here and you're bloody helpless, are you? Not so high and mighty. Nothing without your wand...”

Sirius could feel Greyback's claw-like fingers move on his neck, tips pressing into his throat and he thought they might even draw blood. Greyback licked his teeth and inhaled deeply, as if sniffing his prey.

“I could bite you, right now, perhaps...” He buried his face in Sirius's hair and took another ragged breath, grinning gleefully. “...And you'd become just like me. Just like your pup over there...” he jerked his head into Remus's general direction, “And your life will be over, too, wouldn't it? Ever thought of it? How horrible that would be for someone like you?”

Sirius's eyes widened and he could see a look of terror sneaking onto Remus's face. Greyback seemed to revel in the idea, then suddenly looked as if a thought had crossed his mind. He sniggered and pressed closer against Sirius, almost choking him.

“But listen, come on, want me to tell you something, Black...? I'll tell you something, just you... we won't tell even tell your pup,” he continued, sounding conspiratorial and very serious, yet speaking loud enough for anyone in the corridor to hear.

Sirius was still staring past Greyback's head, eyes locked with Remus's, wide with fear. It was so quiet in the long, marble hallway, every breath seemed to echo from the walls. Greyback shuffled closer, revelling in what Sirius thought might well be the smell of fear.

“...I'll tell you a secret... just between you and me – I'll tell you the worst thing about it...” he leaned in, his voice hoarse and his breath rough on Sirius's face as he tightened his grip on his neck. Sirius could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, terrified what might come next.

“ _There is no difference_ ,” Greyback whispered into Sirius's ear, then cackled manically as he moved away, holding him at arm's length, “No difference! You will be the same. You will _feel_ the same, think the same. And when people tell you that you're nothing but a stupid, mindless animal, Black... you, _you_ won't just bow and believe them – _you_ will know that it's a lie. You will always know, always remember... every moment of your miserable existence.”

Sirius barely felt the drop of blood that trickled down his neck where Greyback's fingernails had pricked his skin. All he could see was the look on Remus's face as he stared at him past the madman between them and the pain that was settling not in his neck, but his chest, tightening around his heart.

“Dead to the world,” Greyback breathed into Sirius's ear, “and it will drive you mad. You will wish, Black, _wish_ you'd have been young enough to believe them. Young enough to forget what it was like to be treated as the human you are.”

“No!”

Gasping, Remus fell to his knees and Sirius struggled to breathe when Greyback pushed himself back and took a swing at the other werewolf. A muffled groan escaped Remus's throat and he crouched on the floor holding his side where Greyback's foot had hit him, but Sirius had no time to worry about him. His wand was back in his hand and, casting the first spell that came to his mind, he blew Greyback away from himself, collapsing with the force of the spell's backlash. Greyback had hardly crawled to all fours by the time Sirius's second spell hit him.

The third spell came flying from down the hall and, struggling to his feet, Sirius spotted Bellatrix in the door of her office, striding towards them with fury on her face. She sent one, two, three more spells at Greyback, who spat at her before fleeing down the corridor.

“He will regret this,” she stated dangerously when she came to a halt, looking at Sirius. “Sirius! I was waiting for you. I wasn't aware that you were already here.”

“We arrived a couple of minutes ago,” Sirius replied icily and Bellatrix frowned, apparently only noticing Remus now that he got to his feet. She looked back at her cousin and pursed her lips.

“I'm sorry to have let you wait,” she said, “Greyback showed up right after I sent you the note and refused to see sense.” She frowned. “And I'm even sorrier to tell you that unfortunately, I will have to postpone our meeting. I have to be at the Ministry for Rodolphus's speech. You are welcome to join me, though.”

“No, thank you,” Sirius replied stiffly, trying to hide the tremble that had taken hold of him. “I would rather go home and... clean up.” He wrinkled his nose and Bellatrix nodded.

“Understandable. We will talk tomorrow, then. I expect to be caught up at the Ministry and afterwards get summoned to report to the Dark Lord, but I'll send word as soon as I can.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

With a nod, Bellatrix Disapparated and Sirius took a deep breath, turning to Remus, who stood a couple of steps away, looking like he wanted nothing as much as to be out of Way the Lind. His hands and lips were shaking, Sirius noticed, and he was staring away into nothing. When Sirius stepped up to him and took his hand, he flinched and looked up.

A glimpse later, they had Disapparated.

*

The fireplace in his bedroom was the first thing Sirius saw when he opened his eyes. Clasping his fingers around the hand he was holding, he turned to the side to look at Remus, who let out a breath of relief and closed his eyes at the familiar surroundings. The light of the fireplace cast dancing shadows onto his face. Wordlessly, Sirius stepped closer and kissed him with trembling lips.

 

Cameras flashed as Rodolphus Lestrange stepped up to the rostrum and faced the crowd of journalists, raising his magically enhanced voice:

_“As of today, April 29th 1980, the Wizengamot has passed as lawful the following amendment to section 5 §32 of General Wizarding Law, the Werewolf Act, established in 1961, which shall hereby come into immediate effect. In accordance with this amendment, a werewolf, defined by the Werewolf Act as a limitedly sentient, but extremely dangerous dark beast of no recognised legal status,..._

 

A quiet shiver ran down Sirius's back as hesitant fingertips brushed against the back of his free hand and sought to intertwine their fingers. Exhaling shakily, he could feel Remus's breath on his lips as they kissed slowly, tentatively. Sirius didn't know what had got into him, but he found he couldn't quite bring himself to stop. He tightened his grip on Remus's hands and edged closer, lips sliding against Remus's again and again, until they were humming with the sensation.

Brushing his lips against Remus's cheek as they broke apart to catch their breaths, he could feel the other man's breath ghosting over his ear.

“I love you.” Remus's voice was almost a whisper and Sirius's throat tightened at the sound. “For what it's worth... I want to tell you that I love you.”

 

_“...shall from this day on be required by law to be registered the property of a witch or wizard of legal status, per definition in section 1 §1 of General Wizarding Law...”_

 

“Will you kiss me again?” Sirius breathed against Remus's lips, nuzzling his nose, “Please kiss me again...”

Remus exhaled audibly and a surprised whimper escaped Sirius's throat when he felt the tip of Remus's tongue against his lower lip. It was all new and unsettling and overwhelming and it seemed to drown out the numbing fear he had felt moments before in the faraway place of Way the Lind; all he could suddenly remember was the muted, frightening feeling of longing he had hardly known had been there.

He let go of Remus's hand to run his fingers up his arm and take a hold of his shoulder as he leaned into the kiss, responding shyly still, but with all the eagerness he dared. Trembling slightly, he arched towards Remus when he raised his free hand to rest it between Sirius's shoulder blades.

 

_“...any human being with inherent magical ability, passed on through either or both biological parents...”_

 

They developed a rhythm as they moved their lips together, hesitantly wrapping their arms around each other and Sirius thought he had never been this close to bursting with the sheer intensity of experience. A tightness had taken hold of him somewhere in his chest; not in his heart, he thought, but somewhere beneath it, somewhere that caused his breath to come unevenly and his entire body to shiver with exhilaration that washed through it in waves. It was different from the restless urge he had felt at the last full moon, it seemed to rise to his head rather than pool down into his lap. It couldn't be bad, it couldn't ever be wrong if it felt so good.

A giddy, breathless laugh burst from his lips when they broke apart and rested their foreheads against each other for a moment. Eyes closed, Sirius took a moment to drown in Remus's scent before he leaned in again.

 

_“...in order to guarantee, for the safety of the general public and the werewolf in question, adequate control and supervision of the werewolf's animal nature, its actions and, most importantly, monthly transformations. ...”_

 

Sirius gasped when Remus's lips traced along the line of his jaw and his breath brushed across the skin of his neck. Remus ran his lips over the spot where Greyback's claws had drawn blood and kissed it, smiling against the skin when he felt Sirius tremble at the touch.

“Remus,” Sirius breathed, burying his fingers in Remus's hair as he felt the humming feeling in his chest and head spread through his body. He turned his head and exhaled into Remus's hair, which caused the other man to moan quietly and move his head to kiss Sirius's lips sloppily. His hands became heavier on the small of Sirius's back and almost unconsciously, they took a step towards the bed.

Lowering Sirius onto the mattress, Remus let himself be pulled down, settling not quite on top of him as he took his hand and intertwined their fingers.

 

_“Any werewolf without registered legal owner as defined above shall be considered criminal in the sense that it poses an uncontrolled danger to society at large...”_

 

“I love you too,” Sirius choked out between gasps, clinging to Remus desperately as he licked at Sirius's collar bone. A tremble ran through Remus's shoulders and he collapsed slightly against Sirius at his words, Sirius noticed, a smile spreading across his face.

“I don't even know what I feel anymore...” he muttered against Remus's hair, the other's face buried in the crook of his neck, “But I love you too.”

Tightening his grip around Remus's waist, he pulled him further on top of himself, moaning and arching his neck into the caress of Remus's lips when their groins came to rest against each other. His fingers dug into Remus's back when he felt the touch of teeth gently nipping at his skin.

There was nothing but the soft crackling of the fire, the sounds of their breathing and the rustling of clothes.

And the whoosh of the Floo network.

 

_“...and shall be killed upon sight.”_

 

Sirius could feel the sudden chill of Remus jerking away from him, closely followed by the sizzling heat that came rushing between them. Sirius's lips tingled as the Stunning Spell brushed over him, missing his face by less than an inch. His eyes were staring wide at Remus, who was hit by the red light with full force and arched back, falling off the bed in what seemed one long, slow motion. Sirius didn't dare breathe.

When he heard the thudding voice of Remus hitting the floor, he had already pulled his wand and cast a spell back at Augustus Blishwick, who looked surprised, to say the least.

“Black, what the blazes are you...?” he burst out, protecting himself with a Shielding Charm.

Sirius had struggled to his knees and looked mad with fury.

“Get the hell out of my rooms!” he yelled, throwing another spell that got deflected, “How dare you! Get out! _GET OUT!_ ”

Looking nothing short of stunned, Augustus Disapparated with a pop. Sirius glared at the spot where the man had stood, panting hard and fighting back the nervous trembling in his hands. Swallowing hard, he gripped the sheets of the bed beneath him when his fingers wouldn't obey.

A strangled moan reminded him of Remus and he hurried to crawl off the bed and to the side of the stupefied werewolf. Casting a hasty _Rennervate_ , he helped Remus sit up, still shaking like a leaf.

“It's going to be all right,” he muttered, more to himself than to the other man, who sat silently with his arms resting around his knees, quietly watching how Sirius got up and looked around the room in a state of suppressed panic. What had he done?

Sirius felt out of his depth all of a sudden. It took him a moment to muster up the courage to even look at Remus, who didn't seem to be able to hold his gaze longer than a moment before averting his eyes and taking a breath as if to say something. Sirius thought he might lose all the composure he had left if he heard his voice now.

“The Floo,” he breathed instead and turned away to seal off the fireplace. It seemed to get even colder now that the light was gone. He was aware of Remus's eyes following his moves in the near darkness and for lack of air he left the bedroom and went into the office. On a whim he summoned the head house-elf and gave orders to turn away anyone who wanted to speak to him for the rest of the night.

Think. He needed time to think and figure out how he was going to save the situation with as much grace as possible. Augustus would sooner or later demand some kind of explanation and considering Sirius had been... - he drew in a shaky breath – with...

Faint shuffling in the bedroom distracted him from the confusion reigning in his thoughts and returned his attention to the very subject of his irritation.

Through the half open door Sirius could see how Remus pulled the heavy curtains of Sirius's bedroom window shut and, now that the Floo was closed down, lit the lamp on the bedside table, the only other source of light in the room. Shadows began to dance inside and every now and then reached out into the office as Remus moved around the room,  
occasionally obscuring the lamplight.

Drawn back to the bedroom by a strange sense of inevitability, Sirius leaned in the door frame for a moment while Remus finished folding a set of robes away. The bed was straightened out and the covers folded back as every night before Remus retired and left Sirius either to sleep or to a peaceful evening by himself.

Sirius pondered his servant for a while, watching him move with deliberate calculation, his hands working with practical swiftness. If he felt as restless and shaken as Sirius himself, he didn't show it. For a moment, Sirius wished Remus was less good at being opaque about his emotions, as much as he appreciated it in a servant, but...

Eventually, Remus turned around and Sirius noticed how his eyes wandered ceaselessly across the carpet, tracing the lines of ornament woven into it.

“Mylord-“

“Don't,” Sirius interrupted softly. His voice sounded defeated and a sigh escaped his throat. “Please don't,” he repeated and shifted in his position, smiling faintly as he caught Remus's hesitant gaze. Slowly, he moved away from the door and crossed the room, halting two steps away from his servant. The silence between them was almost tangible.

“I didn't mean to cause trouble,” Remus eventually muttered and Sirius shook his head after a moment of quiet.

“I... It's going to be all right,” he answered, “I'm going to sort it out, somehow. It'll be okay.”

Remus looked relieved for a moment and frowned like he was going to say something, but the slamming of the office door and the sound of determined steps entering the adjacent room cut him off.

“Sirius?” a sharp voice reached their ears and Sirius motioned a paling Remus to stay where he was while he himself turned to leave, closing the bedroom door behind himself as he stepped through it. He braced himself.

“Bellatrix,” he stated with forced calm in his voice. His cousin whirled around to face him, looking agitated, wand in hand.

“Your Floo is turned off!”

“Yes.”

Sirius was a little taken aback at her grabbing his hand, a look of concern on her face.

“Sirius! Are you all right?” she asked, frowning as her eyes bore into his. “Augustus told me...”

“ _Blishwick?_ ” Sirius snapped, his temper bursting out of him all of a sudden. He ripped his hand away and Bellatrix blinked. “What did he tell you? The _nerve_ of him to just Floo in unannounced...!”

“I sent him to get you,” Bellatrix replied, looking vaguely stunned and fairly sceptical. “There was going to be a meeting after Rodolphus's speech and I thought it would be a good opportunity for you. Sirius, what happened?”

Sirius scowled.

“What happened?” he pressed out between clenched teeth. “He came barging in without notice and started throwing spells at-”

“But he said you were being attacked,” Bellatrix interjected, “and he was trying to protect you and himself from that beast of yours, when _you_ suddenly seemed to lose your mind and attacked him in return. I was so worried...”

Sirius swallowed, trying to keep his angry, indignant face despite the squirming feeling rising in his stomach. He figured if he managed to keep the upper hand on the matter... get Bellatrix onto his side...

“I'm not sure what Augustus _thought_ he saw in that _half second_ between stepping out of the Floo and almost hitting me square in the face with a Stunning Spell,” he snarled, looking pointedly at Bellatrix. “But I had my wand at hand, didn't I? Funny that I wasn't already defending myself against any werewolf attacks at the time, don't you think?”

He snorted humourlessly and paced, looking tetchy. Bellatrix followed him with her eyes.

“But what was it he saw, then? ...You aren't usually this upset,” she remarked and Sirius huffed, his mind working with what he hoped was carefully concealed rapid speed.

“What? Would you imagine, I got attacked and almost killed by someone's irate, insane werewolf earlier,” he spat, then looked down at himself. “I was about to get changed and I should say my valet was doing his job. Sadly, as you can see, I never got around to it because Augustus Blishwick figured he would just fall down my chimney and blast my servant across the room, missing me by less than an inch. I think my eyebrows are singed. _I wonder why I'd be upset...!_ ”

He drew his wand and sent a stack of papers on his desk flying, groaning and kicking them with his feet when he walked past. Bellatrix stepped up to him and stopped him in his pacing.

“Oh darling...” Placing a hand on his cheek she tilted her head. “Calm down, all right? You worry me when you're so unsettled.”

Sirius held her gaze for a moment, then took a couple of deep breaths, grinding his teeth. “Well, then tell your lackeys to send notice before they drop by in the future,” he grumbled and Bellatrix sighed, shaking her head.

“I will, I will.” She smirked, her voice containing a hint of encouraging amusement. “You did give him quite a shock, though. He thought you'd gone mad and you were going to have your wolf tear him to pieces or something...”

Sirius laughed derisively. “If I wasn't this close to marrying his sister, I would feel offended and quite tempted to actually do that,” he pressed out and Bellatrix shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“He looked pretty confused and only reluctantly convinced,” she admitted and sighed. “I'm glad to see he was being hysteric. I was rather concerned, that's why I came by myself...”

“I'm not going to apologise for that,” Sirius scowled, calming down now that the worst seemed to be over and Bellatrix chuckled.

“It's all right, love.” She pulled his face down and placed a kiss to his forehead. “Given your current engagement to Octavia I'm pretty certain Blishwick won't be making a fuss, anyway. He respects you too much for that,” she replied, sounding vaguely proud. “He'll let the matter rest easily enough, knowing his place; just get rid of the wolf and it will be out of the world.”

Sirius's expression darkened, tension sneaking back into his shoulders.

“ _’Get rid’_ of him?” 

“Oh well,” Bellatrix looked pointedly at him, voice heavy with meaning. “No-one’s going to find out, I’ll make sure of that. You won’t get in trouble for it. I mean, who’s going to tell one werewolf from the other?”

Sirius swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. A cold shiver was creeping up his spine when he realised that she meant everything she implied.

“And why would I do that?”

“Oh, come on, Sirius,” Bellatrix sighed, rolling her eyes and smiling. “Blishwick came tumbling back into a gathering of important people, swearing his tits off in front of everyone. He's got a gash across his arm and his robes are torn. Your aim was pretty good, by the way, your spell hit the dead angle of the Shielding Charm...” She shrugged. “It's all a little embarrassing; his father almost fainted with shame. Augustus insists that the werewolf had intentions of attacking him and that he was defending himself. So for the sake of keeping things nice with your future brother-in-law...”

“...I should cower and accept the loss of valuable property, so his ego won't feel quite so bruised?” Sirius replied acidly and Bellatrix raised an eyebrow.

“Oh please, he's humiliated enough. It's not like the thing isn’t replaceable. But it'd be better to remove any personal differences between you and the Blishwicks, especially so close to the wedding.”

“No.”

“What?” Bellatrix looked stunned. Sirius straightened up and crossed his arms.

“No. I'm not going to ‘get rid’ of my secretary so little Augie can boost his self-esteem.”

“Sirius...”

“ _No._ ” He stiffened and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “No way. You can go tell Blishwick to go and f-”

“ _Sirius!_ ” Bellatrix took two steps back and for a moment, they glared at one another. Sirius's voice was cold.

“I'm not going to be bullied into this, Bella. This is a matter of respect and the Blishwick whelp won't be making demands of me, certainly not. My servant did nothing wrong.”

“But Sirius, that's hardly the point,” Bellatrix replied, throwing her hands in the air. “It's nothing personal, just...”

“I don't care,” Sirius snarled, his anger bubbling back up. “I had _every right_...”

“Oh, would you calm down already!” Bellatrix suddenly snapped, her eyes narrowing. “You're blowing this out of proportion, Sirius. What's wrong with you? It's not even a big deal, so stop being stubborn.”

“Well, _tough luck_ ,” Sirius spat, gathering from the look on his cousin's face that he'd crossed a line. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his lips together firmly. “I'm not in the mood to discuss this anymore tonight,” he added, trying to sound conciliatory and faintly exhausted. “You're right, I'm stressed and upset and it's not like me at all. In fact, this entire discussion just now feels like a strange nightmare. So can we please – _please_ – talk about this tomorrow, Bella?”

For a moment they looked at each other and Sirius saw, with a small jolt of victory, how Bellatrix's features became a little softer, even though her eyes remained suspicious. He was getting somewhere, at least.

“I will be back tomorrow,” she eventually said, her eyes fixed on his. “But I implore you, Sirius, to stop behaving like this; consider your public face. Augustus won't be pleased and the last thing you need now...”

“Fair enough,” Sirius interrupted, sighing. “Tomorrow, yes? I need a good night's rest...”

Bellatrix seemed reluctant to rest the case, but eventually pressed out.

“Tomorrow. Goodnight, Sirius.”

Burying his face in his hands once Bellatrix had Disapparated, Sirius tried to breathe as deeply as he could without bursting his lungs. His head was reeling and he wished he could just faint and be spared the pain of shutting his thoughts up.

Quietly, he heard the door of his bedroom being opened and soft steps treading on the carpet.

“I can't look at you right now,” he muttered, barely loud enough for Remus to hear. “Please go. I need to sleep and think and...”

After a moment, he heard how Remus was walking over to the door, pressing down the handle in his usual, noiseless manner. The steps halted.

“If you just did what she-”

“No. I... meant what I said... before,” Sirius breathed, swallowing hard. “Please go.”

Without another word, Remus left the room. His steps rang with a low sound as he walked down the hall outside, soon leaving Sirius in complete, undisturbed silence.

***

It felt to Sirius like he had barely managed to fall asleep by the time the high-pitched voice of a panicked house-elf woke him up. Jerking awake, he struggled to accustom his eyes to the darkness in the room. A moment later he spotted the house-elf, standing in the pale light of his ignited wand.

“Master Black,” she squeaked, “Master Black...!”

“What is it?” Sirius snapped, flinching when a thundering sound shook the room. “What is going on?”

“We elves do not know, Master Black,” the tiny creature cried. “There is unrest, Sir. Down in the werewolf quarters...”

Another loud bang rang through the house and Sirius grimly recognised the sound of magical wards cracking under assault. Summoning his robes and throwing them on over his nightclothes, he stepped into a pair of shoes and grabbed his wand. Striding out of the room and lighting up every possible lamp on the way, he shook the remnants of sleepy drowsiness off his mind.

Walking down the long hall outside his office, he could hear faint voices calling from the cellar, where the werewolves slept in what had once been a dungeon. It was the safest place to keep them, especially when they underwent transformation.

Sounds of explosion that could only be caused by a spell hitting a solid object made him quicken his steps and he was all but running down the grand, marble staircase, spelling doors open and firing up lamps ahead of him. The heavy door to the dungeons flow open with a drum-shattering noise.

Standing in the door, Sirius could almost feel the echoing sound roll down the stone corridor ahead, colliding with the noises coming from behind the door of the far chamber. It was suddenly very quiet, but for Sirius's steps as he strode through the windowless passage, casting flames to illuminate the way before him.

When he threw the door to the last room open, he saw nothing at first. A smell of earth and dampness rose from inside. The room appeared completely empty, tinged in darkness that was brightened only by the flickering light falling on through the door. Narrow mattresses marked the sleeping places of twelve people, quilts and pillows were strewn across the floor, partly torn, in apparent chaos. Feathers were scattered, although Sirius wasn't sure whether they were a result of the disruption just before or whether the werewolves had shredded one of the pillows themselves at some earlier point; a couple of the feathers were dirty and looked like they'd been walked into the stone floor for a while.

Scanning the room, wand at the ready, Sirius suddenly spotted movement in the shadows and quiet shuffling sounds were audible. Someone whimpered.

“Mylord,” a whisper close to the door attracted Sirius's attention and he watched how the face of one of his werewolves emerged from the shade, moving into the light. Hushed voices repeated the word and Sirius mumbled a spell to lighten up the room.

He counted twelve figures crouching in corners, huddling together and blinking against the brightness. They all wore the same brown rags for sleeping and Sirius struggled to make out their faces.

“What is going on?” he asked sharply and jerked his head when a familiar voice answered.

“Mylord, we woke up when someone tried to get into the room. Someone came in... and cast spells all around...”

Sirius stared at him with a stony expression, trying to reconcile the idea of his valet, of Remus, with the image that presented itself to him, then looked around the room.

“There were two of them. I don't think I've seen either of them before... their voices were unfamiliar. As were their smells,” Remus added. “But they disappeared when they heard you coming... mylord.”

“Did anyone get hit? Is there any serious damage?”

All heads turned towards Remus, who, Sirius noticed, was holding the twitching body of a young werewolf of about seventeen years of age in his arms. There were traces of blood on Remus's hands and dark red stains were soaking through the fabric of the boy's shirt here and there.

“He got hit by a purple light,” the female werewolf croaked and Sirius wordlessly summoned the head house-elf.

“Fetch the Healer. He is to appear immediately,” he ordered curtly. “Now!”

The house-elf disappeared with a bow.

“You!” Sirius continued, looking at Remus, “With me.”

Turning to leave, he heard how Remus got up and followed him. The young boy let out a low wail and Sirius gathered from the moving noises that the other werewolves were taking care of him. Walking back up the corridor, he ordered the Healer that came hurrying his way to make sure that all eleven werewolves were patched up and taken care of enough to send them back to work in the morning. Without a further word, he left the dungeons and walked back up the stairs.

It was long after they had reached Sirius's office that either of them spoke. Remus silently stood by while Sirius wrote a short, but poignant note to Augustus Blishwick and sent it off. Then he sealed off his desk carefully and closed his eyes while raising additional wards to protect the manor.

“Come here.”

Slowly, Remus walked across the room from where he stood by the door. He was barely two steps away when Sirius abruptly took him by the wrist and Apparated them away.

*

The alley was as nondescript as any alley ever could have been, particularly at night. High walls framed the narrow walkway and obscured most of the moonlight that might have reached the cobblestones otherwise. Sirius pulled Remus after himself as he purposefully strode on, using the light at the end of his wand to search the brick wall to their left for something specific.

Remus inhaled with surprise when the Black crest began to appear slowly on the wall, seeping out between the bricks like ink to form the familiar line _Toujours pur_ at the bottom. Sirius pressed his hand to the skull at the top of the image and pulled Remus along as he stepped through the wall.

The room they were in looked not that different from Sirius's office back at Black Manor, just older. There was a desk, an ample Victorian settee that looked like the most recent piece in the place, a cupboard and an outrageously old-fashioned potions cabinet next to a fireplace in a corner. Outside, the almost full moon hung brightly in the dark night sky, illuminating the rooftops of the houses below.

“We are underground,” Sirius remarked at Remus's fascinated gaze. “This is a charm. It enables you to keep an eye on what's going on overground. Just in case you might need to make a quick exit before things get tight.”

Remus glanced at him, then looked about the room hesitantly.

“What is this? Where are we?”

“Trust me, the information that it's a very secret place is already enough to get you killed,” Sirius replied flatly, walking over to the desk and checking its drawers. Looking up at Remus's confused face, he added quietly. “Blishwick's making trouble. I need to disappear for a night and come up with a proper plan to shut him up. Turns out the manor is not quite the place to get any peace tonight. This room, on the other hand, is a family secret and warded like a vault.”

Remus nodded as a sign that he'd understood. It was quiet for a moment.

“They were after you earlier,” Sirius added simply. “This is why you're here.”

Remus glanced up, meeting his gaze and all of a sudden Sirius felt an awkward trickle somewhere in the back of his neck. He swallowed and averted his eyes, focusing on the stationery on the desk in front of him and pulling out a piece of parchment. Biting his lip, he glanced up at Remus for a second, hesitating.

“I'm all right, mylord,” Remus simply replied to the unspoken question and Sirius smiled faintly, nodding.

“You are free to go to sleep,” he said formally. “I won't be needing anything. There is water over by the cupboard, if you're thirsty.” He took a small stack of parchment out of one of the drawers and transfigured it into a blanket with a swish of his wand. Another flick and the folded piece of fabric floated through the air and landed on the settee.

“Thank you,” Remus replied quietly, sitting down on the settee, but not looking like he was about to go to sleep. From the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed how the werewolf shifted awkwardly for a moment, but eventually pulled his legs up and settled down, staring ahead. Lost in thought, he appeared oblivious to the occasional glance Sirius threw in his direction, until, not without exasperation, Sirius turned his chair around to look out of the window instead, blinking at the pale light outside.

The moon would be full again the following night. Sirius warily eyed the white orb, figuring that his life seemed to consist of nothing but full moons these days. He'd never paid the lunar cycle much attention before, but he was certain that it had seemed to be slower, somehow. The last full moon didn't feel like so long ago now.

Sirius watched the dark grey clouds for a while, until the small, ornamental clock on the desk gave a low chime, telling him that it was one o'clock in the morning. Contemplating the golden object for a moment, watching how the intricately shaped hands moved across the clock face, he wondered bemusedly whether the clock had chimed at every hour for the last so many years in which nobody had used the room.

Sirius strongly suspected his father had never set foot in it, although he had probably known of its existence. Sirius himself had learned of it when he had taken over the Black empire and found old notes of his grandfather in which the room had been referred to. Arcturus Black already hadn't used the room anymore by the time the Grindelwald Rising had reached England and it appeared that Orion had never seen it necessary to revive the habit. Sirius hadn't had reason to seek out a place safer than his own house up until now; with Rodolphus in the Ministry there weren't any clandestine business transactions he was involved in that he couldn't settle in broad daylight in his own office. In fact, he felt almost silly coming here because Augustus Blishwick was being a nuisance.

Involuntarily, Sirius's eyes glanced back at Remus and he noticed that the other man had fallen asleep after all, more or less uncomfortably curled up on the settee, half sitting up with his head prodded up on one arm.

Sirius looked at him for a while, until he began to feel as if he was being watched as he watched Remus. Irritated, he told himself that they were alone and Remus was asleep, but it didn't help much. He realised that he felt no less aware of the other man's presence than when Remus was awake, perhaps even more so. Awake, the werewolf had developed an ability to escape notice, moving silently, speaking quietly and blending in with whatever background was there whenever he was required to.

Sleeping, however, he was almost uncannily visible and Sirius was morbidly fascinated by the thought that this solid body should remain while the mind was asleep, and continue to breathe, work. Sirius wasn't used to conceiving people in terms of physicality and while he wasn't an idiot and realised that everyone obviously had a body in order to function, he didn't usually think twice about it. No body had ever attracted his attention.

Remus, however, seemed to be all body in the most unsettling way. To Sirius, he had been a mere body before he'd become a man, and it seemed impossible now to separate the two.

Blinking against the exhaustion that had begun to settle into his limbs, Sirius rubbed his eyes and wrapped himself more tightly into his robes. His hand touched the wooden desktop and he thought he heard faint sobs from somewhere far off. Pushing against the wood with all his force he was faintly aware of Remus moving on the settee, but he took a step forward, spiralling down. Bellatrix was crying, a look of fury in her eyes. Her wand was pointed at him.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Don't cry, Bella,” he muttered and hesitantly curled his fingers around one of the dark locks of hair falling down her shoulders. A stubborn look of spite replaced the anger on her face and Sirius frowned. “Are you sad? Don't be sad.”

Soft breathing reached his ears and Sirius wondered how Remus could be so physical, so present, all the time. It was like he could feel the warmth radiating off his skin all the way across the room, through the door, to where he sat across from Bellatrix, wondering why she would be crying. It was like he could hear the blood rushing through Remus's sleeping body, driven on by every breath, and he wanted to touch it, grab it, just to take away some of its menacing presence.

Bellatrix was laughing now, wiping stray curls of hair away from of her reddened eyes, her young face. Sirius was laughing too, giddy with how she was so kind to him always and had time for him when nobody else did. She gently placed a wand in Sirius's hand, wrapping her fingers around his as she pulled him into a hug, cradling his body gently against her own.

“I'll show you something, love. Move it like this,” she smiled, nudging his hand, “and say...”

Sirius gave a start.

Remus took a step back, raising his hands apologetically. The room came back into focus.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I didn't mean to wake you...” Remus looked down at the blanket in his hand and bit his lip. “You were shivering... I thought...”

Sirius glanced at the clock which showed quarter past four now. He had fallen asleep and dreamed... Narrowing his eyes, Sirius tried to remember what he'd dreamed of. Bellatrix. A thirteen-year-old Bellatrix teaching his five-year-old self to cast simple spells in her room at her childhood home. He remembered the day.

Gently taking the blanket from Remus's hand, Sirius contemplated it for a moment.

“You're tired,” Remus's quiet voice was audible and Sirius blinked up at him. “You should lie down for a bit. You're not going to solve anything tomorrow if you don't-”

“I want...” Sirius interrupted him suddenly, then abruptly fell quiet, tightening his grip on the blanket. Eventually he sighed and nodded drowsily, getting up. “I suppose I should.”

Remus stood back as Sirius walked over to the settee and tried to lie down on it in a comfortable position despite its disfavouring design. Eventually he simply leaned back against one of its armrests and pulled his feet up.

In the meantime, Remus had organised a glass of water that he offered to Sirius with a questioning glance. When Sirius shook his head, Remus drank from it with deep gulps before refilling it. Sirius's eyes rested on the glass for a moment, the fingers that were wrapped around it.

“Can I hold you?” he asked quietly, not looking up at Remus.

There was a silence during which Remus was probably biting back the urge to ask 'mylord?' and Sirius pulled his legs closer to himself. Remus seemed to grow bigger with every heartbeat, more present, more overwhelming.

“I want to hold you,” he repeated, sounding curiously ashamed. “I... Will you let me?”

His head snapped up when Remus put the glass down on the desk. When he returned to the settee, he sat down quietly and willingly let himself be pulled towards Sirius.

Sirius had imagined it easier, holding someone. Now all he seemed to get was limbs everywhere as he struggled to accommodate Remus alongside himself without... without having him lie outright on top of him. That was an amount of touching he was altogether not willing to face and to his relief, neither was Remus.

When both their bodies were aligned more or less comfortably, Sirius slowly and shyly put his free arm around Remus, feeling rather awkward about it all of a sudden. He jumped lightly when Remus's fingers came to rest against his chest and Sirius exhaled shakily, laughing breathlessly to himself. Remus smiled quietly and shifted his head so the tip of his nose brushed across Sirius's. Their eyes met and Sirius's fingertips pressed down gently where they lay on Remus's back. Remus blushed a little.

They lay motionlessly for a while, breathing and barely touching. Sirius watched how Remus's eyelids got heavier again and soon he had drifted off back to sleep. Focusing on the small, glowing sensation somewhere beneath his heart, Sirius closed his eyes. When he fell asleep this time, he slept dreamlessly.


	6. La Destruction

“Don't even try, Black!”

Sirius froze in his movements as he stepped through the door of his bedroom into his office, buttoning up the shirt he'd changed into after Apparating back to the manor. Slowly moving his hands up and away from any possible place where he could keep his wand ready, he glared at Augustus Blishwick, who stood in the middle of the room.

“Blishwick,” Sirius began coolly, but the other man cut him off, fury dripping from his every word.

“Where did you go? Where did you take that beast of yours?” Blishwick demanded, his wand shaking slightly with anger as he stood pointing it at Sirius. “How dare you-”

“ _How dare I?_ ” Sirius interrupted, snarling. He took a step forward, ignoring the wand pointed at him. “How dare I indeed! Let me tell you something, Blishwick, if I were you, I'd not provide me with yet another reason to drag you to court! You were breaking and entering, not to mention damaging...”

Blishwick's juvenile, pale face went pink and he snorted loudly.

“I was taking the right you denied me, Black.”

“You had no right whatsoever!” Sirius bellowed, shaking his wand out of his sleeve with a quick jerk. He subtly shifted his weight, ready to counter any curse Blishwick might think of throwing. “You better go and fetch yourself a good lawyer because you can be absolutely sure that...”

“ _Watch where you point that!_ ” Augustus yelled, tightening his grip on his own wand. A hint of malice was glimmering in his eyes. Hissing, he added, “And if I were you, I'd stop spitting threats here. Or I might be forced to slip some words that might just be difficult to take back once they're out...”

Sirius fell silent, a cold sneer on his lips.

“And what could you possibly say that would cause me to listen to you, Blishwick?”

Augustus stepped closer, eyes narrowed and lips morphed into a cruel smile.

“Oh, I don't know, Black – I might just want to voice... an _alternative_ to my previous... assumptions. Say, to my father, for example. Or your honoured mother. Surely she'd like to know what her son and heir gets up to when he thinks nobody's looking.” He was less than two steps away from Sirius now, wand pointing at his heart. Sirius unconsciously stepped back. Blishwick's voice was barely a hiss. “ _Don't think I don't know what you were doing, Black_. You and your filthy...” He fell silent, his voice trembling with revulsion.

Sirius felt a rush of cold overtaking him all of a sudden. He stared at Blishwick, who made a face as if he was tasting something revolting.

“The creature will go,” Blishwick hissed. “Give it back to the Lestranges, they’ll take care of it. I will _not_ ,” he emphasised, anger and disgust ringing in his words, “see my sister marry a... _perverted... urge-driven... lecher_ ,” he pressed out and drew in a sharp breath. Stepping back, he straightened up to his full height, flexing his shoulders as if to free himself from the words he'd just used. He seemed to be fighting the urge to retch.

“Merlin knows, I don't begrudge Octavia the match she's made...” he spat. “I don't like you, Black, but for her sake – hell, if she really wants to marry you, I'll hold my tongue. But I swear I will not stand seeing her walk in shame next to a husband who... who will do... _that_.” He seemed to be struggling for words. “Who'll lose all civilised dignity and self-control with a... with a mere beast...”

His last words were a furious whisper.

Sirius stood rigid, clenching his jaw to keep it from trembling with anger and shock – and, he realised, _fear_. His eyes bore into Blishwick's with a stubbornness edging on madness as the other man stepped away, wrinkling his nose at him.

“The werewolf must go.” Augustus's voice was cold and forcedly calm. “I will see to it that it happens. Try and protest; you will regret it.”

He Disapparated and Sirius noticed how his muscles began to shake with white-hot anger, anger at what exactly he wasn't able to say, but he had the distinct urge to blow something up. He threw a Reductor Curse at the bookshelf at the far end of the office, then another and another, until sheets of torn pages were whirling around the room, charred at the edges.

Exhaling violently, Sirius turned around and stormed into his bedroom, tearing a set of robes out of his wardrobe, reinforcing all wards around the manor and Disapparating.

*

“Put them on,” he told Remus without so much as a glance when he materialised inside the room he had taken them to the night before. “Now!” he added, when Remus stared at him, clutching the robes to his chest.

Sirius began pacing the room restlessly and eventually helped himself to two glasses of water that he downed hastily. When he turned around, Remus had slipped the robes on over his torn, brown sleeping habit and was sitting on the settee, hands in his lap.

“What happened?” he asked quietly and Sirius looked at him, swallowing hard.

“I don't know,” he replied, his voice breaking. Clearing his throat, he added. “I don't know... Blishwick... he knows... he wants...”

He walked over to the desk and began to rummage about in the drawers, hoping to come across something entirely unexpected and surprising that would solve all of his problems. Eventually he slammed the drawer shut and collapsed onto the chair. Burying his face in his hands, he calmed his breathing down and blinked a couple of times to clear his head.

“Blishwick knows,” he said quietly, looking at the desk in front of him. “He's after you. He... he wants you gone.”

“Gone.”

Sirius looked up to meet Remus's gaze. A strange look was in the werewolf's green eyes, a mix of spite and terror shimmering behind the usual veil of mild, polite interest. The longer he looked into Remus's eyes, the more he became aware of the impatience that began to seep through the werewolf's passive expression and he averted his gaze.

“He said that, if I did not get rid of you,” Sirius began, “he'd make sure that I regretted it.”

Silence fell.

“So what are you going to do?”

Sirius didn't reply for a long minute, then got up and stepped out from behind the desk. Remus rose from where he sat on the settee. They stood two feet away from each other and Sirius bit his lip, feeling every bit as lost as before.

“I don't know,” he admitted quietly. “I really don't know... I just... I don't want...”

He broke off and hesitantly reached out for Remus's hand, fingers wrapping around the other man's wrist. Swallowing, Sirius traced the line of the tag bracelet around Remus's knuckles with his fingertips. He raised his eyes to glance at Remus's lips, not quite managing to look into his eyes.

“If I set you free...”

“I'd be dead before the day was out,” Remus finished quietly. “It's the full moon tonight. And the new law says...”

He didn't have to complete the sentence.

“Yes,” Sirius whispered, sounding defeated. He took a deep breath, looking down at the wristband again. “...What would you do?” he asked, moving his fingers and slipping them to fit in between Remus's. “What do you think I should do now?”

It was quiet for a moment in which Remus ran his thumb gently across the back of Sirius's.

“I don't know,” he answered eventually. “I... I don't want to lea-”

Heavy pounding at the door cut him off and a moment later, the door was crashing open and the leering face of Fenrir Greyback was visible, sniffing the air gleefully. He grinned at them, baring his rotten teeth, when someone else stepped through the door past him, wand outstretched.

“It's true,” Bellatrix whispered, mostly to herself. She was staring at Sirius's hand and fingers, still entwined with Remus's, as they stood, frozen. Bellatrix looked up, her eyes darting from one face to the other. “I hardly dared believe it, but Augustus was _right_...”

“Bella, listen, Blishwick's trying to-” Sirius began, but Bellatrix shook her head, as if to soothe a little child, and cut him off.

“Shh, it's all right, love,” she muttered. Her wand pointed at Remus. “You! Let him go! What did you do to him?”

“What...? He did nothing – Bellatrix...!” Sirius cried, pulling his own wand and pushing Remus back as he stepped half in front of him. He was panting and wondering fleetingly whether he was actually going mad. Whether the world had suddenly gone mad.

“Put your wand away,” Bellatrix replied, sounding like she was humouring a lunatic. “It's all right, Sirius. You'll be all right... you're not yourself right now. He's done something to you and you're a little confused now, but we can make it all right. It's okay... put the wand away. I promise, I'll take care of it... you'll be all right.”

Very slowly and carefully, one hand outstretched, she stepped closer.

“No.”

With a slashing movement, Sirius cast off the subtle Disarming Spell she'd thrown at him. He was about to Disarm her in turn, but Bellatrix was too prepared, too good at duelling, and before Sirius knew what was happening to him, he was crashing backwards into the cupboard, hearing how the water jug that had stood on it hit the floor and shattered to pieces. Holding the back of his head, he looked up to see Greyback's sneering face as the werewolf stepped in front of him. Sirius shuffled to his feet, gripping his wand, but Greyback seemed alert, his broad shoulders tense as if he was ready to pounce any second.

Behind the old werewolf, Bellatrix advanced on Remus.

“You foul, little creature,” she hissed, “You've poisoned his mind from the beginning, haven't you? I must have been blind not to see it already back on that balcony...” She raised her wand.

Sirius couldn't see Remus's face past the bulky figure of Fenrir Greyback, who kept his distance, yet effectively cornered him.

“What is it you did to him, what did you give him?” Bellatrix continued.

“Nothing,” Remus faintly choked and from the sound of his voice, Sirius could tell he was in pain.

“Lying... filthy... little... beast...” Bellatrix pressed out, breathless with the exertion of keeping Remus under what Sirius assumed was a silent spell or curse as _incentive_ , as she liked to call it. He heard Remus gasp and bite back a scream that came out as a strained moan instead.

Greyback shifted slightly and Sirius caught a glance at Remus, who looked like he was about to crumble to pieces, clutching at the desk behind him for support to keep standing upright. Unable to look at Remus's distorted face and screaming eyes, Sirius turned away to look at his cousin instead, frantically thinking what he could possibly say to get her attention, to get her to believe him. All he saw was the livid, cold cruelty etched into her features.

“Do you think it even matters...?” Bellatrix's voice reached Sirius's ears, suddenly sounding like she was very far away. He stood, transfixed by the look in her eyes, as she straightened up and jerked her arm back, releasing the silent spell. Remus fell to the floor with a thudding noise and Bellatrix's lips curled in a faint smile. Sirius's eyes widened. She was going to... but she couldn't, no, she couldn't... there had to be a way, anything, no matter how...

“No!”

Sirius gripped his wand the same moment she did and a deafening scream echoed through the room, and Greyback lunged forward.

*

The ground knocked Sirius off balance when it forcefully hit his feet and he crouched down, covering his ears with his hands and pressing his eyes shut. Something was dripping onto his fingers and he realised the cobblestones beneath him were wet with rain.

Something heavy was writhing against his leg and his eyes flew open.

“I'm sorry...” he burst out, flinching when his arms were shoved away. “I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry... please... I didn't want to... please...”

Tears were falling from Remus's eyes onto the pavement, streaming uncontrollably while he groaned and vomited violently, gasping for breath as if he was suffocating. He was ghostly pale and a vein at his temple was pulsating fiercely. 

Sirius sat back on his heels and watched helplessly how Remus tried to push himself up on all fours. Sirius cast a quick Vanishing Spell on the pool of sick and blood when Remus's arms slipped away under his body. Collapsing back onto the stone, Remus cried out and curled up, holding his sides. He was shaking all over, retching sounds escaping his throat.

“I'm so sorry,” Sirius whispered, not daring to step closer when Remus stopped writhing, lying motionlessly on the pavement, face pressed against the cold stones.

Sirius hesitantly outstretched his free hand, but a whimper caused him to pull it back.

“Please,” he muttered and Remus fell completely silent, his chest barely heaving as he breathed flatly. Slowly, Remus turned his head, blinking at Sirius from empty, red-rimmed eyes. He was clutching his wrist.

A hollow feeling was spreading in Sirius's gut and he drew in a shaky breath. What had he done? He hadn't wanted to... hadn't meant to ever do it, but...

“Forgive me,” he breathed, his shoulders sinking under Remus's blank stare. He rested his hands on the wet ground, his fingers stretching to brush faintly against the folds of Remus's robes. “Please forgive me...”

Remus opened his mouth, lips shivering as raindrops hit them. Not a sound left his throat, but he suddenly coughed, fighting for air as new jolts of pain shot through his body.

When he had calmed down, Sirius carefully traced the line of a tear rolling across Remus's cheek. Remus slowly followed the movement with his eyes.

“She... she was going to kill you,” Sirius whispered, an incredulous amazement ringing in his voice when he realised the truth. “I... she really was...” He swallowed. “I'm sorry... I didn't know... how else to get you away...”

Remus closed his eyes and exhaled with forced calmness, his whole body shaking under the strain.

Gently, Sirius pried Remus's fingers away from where they clutched the bracelet on his arm. A red burn marked a painful circle around his wrist and blood was seeping from the torn skin. Sirius tried to touch it as little as possible and quietly cast a Healing Spell, to very little effect. Wounds inflicted by a bondsman bracelet were not meant to be healed easily, nor was the pain meant to go away quickly.

The sensation of Remus's fingers wrapping around his hand caused Sirius to look up.

“No, wait!” he burst out, when Remus tried to pull himself off the ground. Reluctantly supporting his shoulders as he sat up, he cast another Healing Spell at Remus, hoping it would help him at least a little.

“Where are we this time?” Remus breathed faintly, looking around.

“Somewhere...” Sirius answered, scanning the drizzly street they had Apparated in. “I don't know... Muggle London... somewhere deserted...”

Remus struggled to his feet and Sirius straightened up himself, not quite daring to touch the werewolf, but watching out to keep him from falling.

“We should get off the street,” he muttered when Remus seemed to shy away from assistance. “Once you were... by my side, I Apparated us twice in quick succession, but... I don't know... we should find some place to stay... you need to recover...”

Remus wordlessly stumbled along as they turned to walk down the street.

***

Sirius sat staring at the Muggle money in front of him, his fingertips drumming against his thighs as he contemplated and weighed his options – something, he realised, he should have done the night before already, instead of falling asleep in a place he'd thought safe. Blishwick, however, had been quick enough to cook up a story to feed Bellatrix in the meantime and she seemed to have believed it well enough not to trust Sirius's word anymore.

Bellatrix. She should have been the first one for Sirius to go to. He didn't know why he hadn't; if he had, things would be looking a great deal different. He had to give Blishwick that, his move had been good. While Sirius had naively relied on Bellatrix's loyalty to him, Blishwick had twisted the events exactly the right way to shake her trust – not by attacking him directly, but by putting him into the position of the deluded victim and shifting all the blame to Remus. It would be decidedly more difficult to convince Bellatrix of anything now... if there was one, at all.

A loud smash from below jerked Sirius out of his musings and, irritated, he grabbed his wand, glaring at the door until a moan from the shabby bed to his side distracted him. Remus had been sleeping for the last four hours, not without help from Sirius and a well-aimed Sleeping Spell.

They hadn't walked for long, with Remus barely able to keep himself upright with the pain in his guts. They'd found a cheap hotel that rented rooms by the hour, apparently, and after hexing and mugging a couple of Muggles, Sirius had taken a room for the afternoon. Having given orders not to be disturbed by anyone, he had Apparated Remus in and, after a short trip to find something edible for the two of them, had sat in silent vigil, brooding. He was wracking his brain for a way to fix the situation while Remus was trying to regain enough strength to survive the full moon transformation of the coming night.

Sirius nervously ran a hand through his hair.

Way the Lind. If he could get to Way the Lind, Sirius mused, and talk to Bellatrix alone, one on one... He had to get her back onto his side. Had to tell her that Blishwick was the one out of his mind. That he was trying to discredit him, Sirius... that he hadn't seen anything.

Another groan from the bed was audible. Remus was writhing, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin in the reddish light of the room. He was breathing deeply and absent-mindedly tearing at the robes he was wearing.

“Are you all right?” Sirius asked quietly, grabbing the ugly vase he had previously emptied of its tasteless plastic flowers and filling it with water. “Are you thirsty? There's food if you're hungry.”

Remus drank deeply and fell back into the vaguely odorous sheets.

“I need somewhere to transform,” he replied, sounding like he hated himself for saying it.

“I know,” Sirius said. “I thought... I'm not sure...”

“The sewers,” Remus pressed out. “That's where... where other werewolves used to transform, before...”

Sirius stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

“O-okay. So... I have to ward off a part of the sewers?”

“Yes,” Remus sighed as he passed back out against the sheets.

***

It was impossibly dark for a full moon night, Sirius thought as he stared down the deserted street that was illuminated only by ghostly street lights in the night fog. Nobody was out in this part of London, just the occasional car drove by. Overhead, a Muggle train rattled across the bridge, causing the earth beneath Sirius's feet to shake.

Wrapping himself more tightly into his robes and hiding the wand clutched in his hand amidst the folds of fabric, Sirius glanced around, ignoring the heavy, cold drops of water that were falling down on his head long after the train had moved on.

The rain had calmed down to a faint drizzle and rather than casting yet another subtle Warming Charm on himself, Sirius stepped out from under the low bridge and, pulling up his shoulders, began to walk down the street. He kept his steps quiet, listening intently for suspicious sounds of any kind. He had concealed himself with a vague glamour and it wouldn't wear off for another while.

He hadn't planned on walking around all night, waiting. Originally, his plan had been to make sure Remus was safely locked up and then go to Way the Lind to talk to Bellatrix. However, when he'd Apparated to the centre of Wizarding London, the grand house had been lit up, every single window shining brightly in the darkness. There had been reporters and an agitated buzz had surrounded the place. Through the big window of Bellatrix's office, Sirius had spotted his mother, Walburga Black, who had snarled down derisively at the journalists, pulling the curtains shut at the flashlights of cameras.

Sirius had known then that he wouldn't get to speak to Bellatrix alone – or to anyone else, for that matter. If his mother was there, chances were that Blishwick was there as well, and possibly other people, all of whom would insist on fussing over his disappearance and obvious delusions and not listen to a word he said. It was not what he needed and he Disapparated before anyone had got sight of him. He knew that the longer he waited, the more difficult it would be to regain control of the situation, but at this point he decided to wait for Blishwick's next move before he entered the game himself.

Even if it was the beginning of May, staying outside in the rain all night wasn't exactly comfortable. The constant drizzle was chilling in the night breeze and seemed to seep right through to his bones. He'd contemplated staying somewhere inside, but quickly realised that he couldn't sit still. Muggle cafés were noisy and played music that made him nervous and restless and he was steering clear of Wizarding places for the time being. If he'd been found out at a hidden place he'd thought was a family secret, Diagon Alley would be little less than a silver plate.

Sirius wasn't entirely sure how Bellatrix had found him; he had concluded that she must have known of the room somehow. She was well connected, had been through all kinds of family papers and documents, and had a habit of knowing things. That, or she had somehow managed to track him there, which, all things considered, however, he didn't want to believe.

Shaking the thought off his mind, Sirius walked on, careful not to move too far away from where he had locked Remus in an old part of the Muggle sewer system that was apparently not used anymore. He'd warded, sealed and concealed it and in addition placed a Silencing Charm on the place, but he didn't like the thought of moving too far away. It was almost as bad as waiting by the manhole for the moon to go down again. Staying relatively close without attracting too much attention was his plan.

Remus had been more subdued than usual for the rest of the afternoon, as if he couldn't come up with the strength to grow restless as he usually did. He hadn't eaten anything and had remained mostly mute; the only thing he had wasted more than a couple of words on was the importance of proper warding. And...

Sirius cursed as he absent-mindedly trod into a puddle and felt the cold water seep through his shoe, drenching his right foot. A chill crept up his legs.

“ _Promise me_ ,” Remus's urgent words echoed in his head. His pupils had been dilated and his breath ragged with the first signs of transformation. “ _Don't let them send me back to her... If I have… I want it to be quick. Promise me!_ ”

Sirius had stared at him, too surprised to find words. He didn't know anymore what he'd answered, whether he'd answered at all. All he could remember was the brief heat of Remus's lips and the tight feeling that the hurried moment had left in his chest as he'd Disapparated, leaving Remus to the demons in the darkness.

The moment had haunted him since and he had found himself running from it, with every step telling himself that no, he wouldn't. He couldn't... 

Glancing around the street for anyone watching him, Sirius cast a subtle Drying Charm on both his feet for good measure. He walked on past the big, brightly lit window of a dingy Muggle night café and narrowed his eyes at the clock hanging on the wall behind the bar. It was half past two in the morning and the place was empty.

A fat woman past her best years got up from a plastic chair and squinted at him as she adjusted her glasses, stifling a yawn.

“What's it gonna be, then?” she asked grumpily when he stood staring at the coffee machine behind her. For a moment he looked at her as if he hadn't understood a word.

“Tea,” he muttered and she turned around, lazily nodding as she heated up the kettle.

“Working late?” she asked and Sirius, who'd been nervously counting the leftover coins in his pockets, looked up.

“Couldn't sleep,” he replied eventually, figuring that that was probably a sufficiently nondescript reason to be out in the middle of the night, even for Muggles. The woman grunted a reply and handed him a chipped mug with steaming water and a teabag. Paying with what he hoped was unsuspiciously little fuss over the Muggle money, Sirius sat down on a creaking plastic chair in a corner.

He wasn't going to stay long, he knew that much; just long enough to warm up a little. The artificial Muggle light hurt his eyes and the crackling of the radio irritated him. He was about to be grateful that at least nobody else was around when the door opened and a man in his thirties came in, looking worn and exhausted. He nodded at Sirius as he walked past, and Sirius returned the gesture, hoping he wouldn't have to make conversation with a stranger just because they happened to be the only guests. Glamours were a tricky thing, no matter how carefully they were cast. He took a big gulp of tea, listening to the man as he ordered.

“Make it a double, Betty,” he yawned and the woman chuckled.

“Saved any lives today, Doctor Jim?”

“Afraid not,” the man replied and Sirius could hear how a mug was shoved across the counter. The smell of strong coffee reached his nose. “Should have been home six hours ago, but we were understaffed...”

“Better get yourself to bed, then,” the woman replied. “And bring your little niece back here sometimes, will you? Got some candy here still...”

“Next time I get here at a decent hour,” the man chuckled and Sirius could hear how he set down the mug of coffee. The light sound of coins was audible. “Thanks, Betty. Take care!”

A rustling of clothes later the man was walking past Sirius, buttoning up his jacket, underneath which Sirius could see a white coat. Opening the door to leave, he pulled a newspaper out of his bag, not noticing how a single paper slipped from the pages and dropped to the floor.

Seconds later, the man was gone and Sirius sat staring at the loose piece of paper on the floor. The picture was moving. The picture showed his own face.

Coughing, he emptied his mug and got up, nodding goodbye to the woman, Betty. He turned and picked up the leaf as he went, pretending to tie his shoelace.

Outside he walked for a while, purposefully not looking at the sheet. He crossed two streets and rounded a couple of corners before he dared to sneak a glance in the light of a street lamp. He didn't want to know why a Muggle doctor would read a newspaper that contained loose leaflets bearing his own face; the man might've been a wizard for all he knew, or the leaflet was charmed to be still to Muggle eyes.

It looked like Blishwick's story had reached the Prophet, whether through Augustus himself or through Bellatrix and Rodolphus was hard to tell. The piece of paper was loose, as if it had hurriedly been printed and added to all issues of the Evening Prophet, or possibly some Muggle papers as well.

He, Sirius Black, was now officially missing. The article was vague in all the right places, mentioning investigation still in process and it looked like the wards of Black Manor were holding strong, but he was sketched as the victim of some kind of conspiracy that had infiltrated his household.

Sirius smirked at the barely concealed hint that political activists opposing the government were probably behind his disappearance. This sounded a lot like Rodolphus and his phantom rebellion that he had mostly constructed out of thin air by insinuation and spreading rumours. They had made it look like Remus had slowly gained some kind of influence on him and had eventually kidnapped Sirius to surrender him to the rebels, who now held him hostage.

Sirius backed into a dark alleyway and burned the leaflet with a flick of his wand. It was getting harder and harder by the minute to turn the tables. The matter had ceased to be a private incident of blackmail; it was now a public issue on a wholly different level. Remus had become a political conspirator. For the first time Sirius began to doubt whether he would be able to fix the situation without...

No. He shook his head stubbornly and straightened his shoulders.

Sirius left the alleyway and quickly orientated himself. With swifter steps than before, if only to let off steam, he strode back towards where he had left Remus. He didn't care whether the moon was down yet or not, but he felt an urge to be somewhere deserted and the backyard of an empty warehouse seemed like a good place. He could lift the Silencing Charm and listen for sounds of the wolf every now and then, at least.

He heard nothing at first and the horrifying realisation hit him that his wards might have failed and the wolf might have escaped, either into the sewer system, or into Muggle London. Or, Sirius thought, a chill running down his back, he might be unconscious. Or worse, de-

A low howl reached his ears and Sirius crouched down to the manhole, listening. The splashing of water was audible and a gasp of relief escaped Sirius's throat, followed by a hint of despair that made him feel ashamed. Renewing the Warding Spell on the round metal plate, he hesitantly reached out and placed his hand on the cover. A small opening that usually served as a drain for rain water caught his attention and Sirius thought he could hear sniffing sounds from the darkness.

He leaned closer, when suddenly a loud, aggressive snarl echoed through the empty space around him. The wards and metal cover shook as the werewolf threw himself against them with full force and Sirius hastened away, clutching his wand and casting more Sealing Charms, adding a Silencing Spell that cut off the piercing howl of the dark creature.

Wrapping himself into his robes, Sirius shuffled off to find somewhere to stay until the night was over. In the shadow of the empty warehouse, hidden away from the light of the street lamp, he transfigured a pile of empty boxes into a halfway comfortable stool with an oddly shaped roof attached to shelter him from the rain that was getting heavier again.

He only realised that he must've have fallen asleep at some point when he opened his eyes to the faint light of dawn around him. The morning air was cold and moist and the fog obscured everything further than ten feet away. Sirius felt his joints aching and cracking when he got out of his seat and shivered. He cast a spell to warm himself up a little, then wondered what the time was. It was lighter than before and listening he could hear the sound of traffic in the distance. The street lamps died.

Sirius walked up to the manhole and crouched down, lifting the Silencing Spell. It was completely quiet, not a sound came from the depth of the sewers. He reluctantly lifted the wards and stared at the round metal plate.

“Remus?” he called quietly, but no answer came.

He was scared to open the hole all of a sudden. He remembered that after the last full moon, Remus had been unconscious for a day and bandaged for a week. Sirius wasn't squeamish, but the thought of finding Remus lying in a pool of his own blood terrified him more than he'd imagined. He found the thought frighteningly unbearable now that it was so imminent.

Actually losing Remus was the one thing he'd tried not to think of in all this time his life had been so out of control, but now he somehow couldn't escape it. As many reasons as he'd had for everything he'd done, somewhere he'd known that the crucial point was that he didn't want to let the other man go, not back to Bellatrix, not to Augustus, not anywhere. Remus had grown to be a part of his life, in a silent, unobtrusive way that belonged just to him, and Sirius stubbornly clung to it. 

Smacking himself out of his hesitation, Sirius took a deep breath and lifted the heavy, round plate off the hole. Peering into the darkness, he couldn't see a thing at first, but when there were no sounds of movement, he slowly lowered himself down, wand in hand.

“Remus?”

He turned around, looking for signs or sounds of movement in the light of his wand, but none could be heard. Taking a couple of steps into one direction, he spotted a motionless form on the floor, leaning against the wet cement wall. Remus was very pale, but breathing deeply. A cut along his collarbone had torn and drenched the brown shirt he'd been wearing for transformation in blood.

Sirius told himself to keep calm as he levitated Remus off the ground and, with a little difficulty, out through the narrow opening.

Kneeling on the pavement, he was glad for the fog that shielded them from the view of random onlookers. Casting a couple of spells to close the most obvious cuts and scratches, Sirius eventually braced himself and woke Remus up with a light touch of his wand.

Remus jerked back to consciousness, grimacing with pain, when his eyes found Sirius and he exhaled hard.

“Don't move too much,” Sirius muttered, feeling awkward. “I've tried to heal most of your cuts, at least a little bit. Tell me... tell me if...”

“Everything hurts,” Remus breathed, resting his head back against the cold ground. He took a couple of breaths. “You came back,” he added quietly and Sirius bit his lip.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. His fingers brushed against Remus's and he cleared his throat. “You should put on robes,” he continued, pulling out and enlarging the shrunken set of robes Remus had worn before. “Take this thing off; it's no good... at least the shirt...”

Remus nodded and sat up slowly. Sirius slashed the ragged shirt apart with a flick of his wand and peeled it off Remus's wet skin, discarding it on the equally wet pavement. When he had wrapped the robes around the other man's shoulders he paused.

“We need to get away from here,” he said calmly. “I know you're hurt. But we can't stay here.”

“I know,” Remus replied and reluctantly took Sirius's offered hand. He stumbled to his feet, groaning with pain and needing a moment to find his balance.

“All right?” Sirius asked and Remus nodded.

“Where are we going?”

“I... I haven't got the slightest clue,” Sirius admitted. “I thought... at least until we have a better idea... the same hotel as yesterday. Nobody asks questions there.”

Remus looked up and past Sirius's head into the fog.

“Someone's coming,” he breathed and Sirius turned around, his heart sinking when he made out a figure in the white around them. He was about to raise his wand, but the scarlet light had already reached him and he found himself disarmed, glaring at the person who had cast the spell.

“ _Doctor Jim_ , am I right?” he called bitterly and the man heaved a deep sigh as he stepped closer. He looked faintly amused in his white doctor's coat, his wand still directed at Sirius.

“Well, I suppose that was a lie, but I really only use it on dear Betty,” he replied. “Nice to meet you, Black.”

The next bolt of red light knocked Sirius out cold.


	7. Alchimie de la Douleur

“ _Rennervate!_ ”

Sirius felt himself dragged back to consciousness by a thread of electric current and his eyes snapped open. His every fibre ached, and not just from crouching in an uncomfortable position for too long. The metallic smell in his nose caused him to prod his upper lip with the tip of his tongue and he realised that he must've bled from his nose at some point. The blood had dried by now.

He was sitting on a chair, facing a desk from behind which a stern pair of bespectacled brown eyes was scrutinising him with an unreadable expression. Movement in the corner of his vision alerted him to the other man in the room, 'Dr Jim', who went to stand by the door, watching the scene.

“If this isn't the illustrious Lord Sirius Black,” the man behind the desk opened the conversation, sounding like he was inappropriately amused by the situation. “How strange that you and your lot should have gone so far to keep you and your extraordinary companion elusive to the rest of the Wizarding world and yet you end up exactly where you're supposed to be, if the Prophet is to be believed...”

Looking around, Sirius realised that Remus was nowhere to be seen. He was alone with the two strangers.

“Where is he?” he snapped, realising that his hands were somehow tied to the armrests of the chair. “Who are you?”

A moment of silence passed and the two men exchanged a look.

“You know, I don't think I'll tell you, and I might also say that you have your own life to think of right now,” the man behind the desk eventually answered, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the table top. Sirius glared at him, wracking his brain why he looked so familiar. Something in his features reminded Sirius of his childhood, something long ago, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Adjusting his glasses, the man blinked at Sirius, as if he were about to say something.

A knock on the door distracted them and a second later a plump blonde man stuck his head in.

“James? Oh, sorry, I didn't know...” he cut off abruptly when he spotted Sirius in the chair and cleared his throat. “I just got back and I might have news about... the, you know... the _trooping fairies_.” He gestured with a newspaper in his hand, glaring in a rather pointed manner, and the man with the glasses nodded gravely, the look of irritation turning into one of worry for a second.

“Can you handle this for now?” he asked 'Doctor Jim', who was already halfway out the door, closing it behind himself as he went with the blonde man.

“So, Black...” the man at the desk – James – began anew, taking his feet off the table and shuffling around some papers on his desk. “That is some bad situation you've got yourself into here, I must say. Care to tell me what happened?”

“Like I would,” Sirius replied and James shrugged, pointing at the Prophet in front of him.

“I suppose I'll have to go with the official version, then. Suit yourself.”

Sirius ground his teeth, recognising his picture on the front page. He bit his tongue to keep his voice civil.

“I don't know what the newspaper says.”

“Oh, then I should tell you that you're quite lucky you're here, saved from that 'werewolf servant', who is part of a 'conspiracy of the notorious underground liberation front', who 'infiltrated your household'... You're being held hostage by filthy rebels – well, I don't know about the filthy; I had a shower earlier – and the bounty is not half bad; sadly, they want you alive...” James sneered, scanning the article lazily.

“The article is complete rubbish,” Sirius snarled, a cold shudder running down his spine at the thought that they had apparently fallen into the very hands of the guerrilla organisation he hadn't thought to believe in. What if the reason Remus wasn't here...

James raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.

“So why would you have set it up, then?”

“What? I didn't!” Sirius answered angrily. “I had nothing to do with this.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It's the truth!”

“Interesting. Explain.”

Sirius contemplated the other man for a moment and then considered his own situation. He was tied to a chair, at wand point. Altogether, things could have been better.

“I've been framed,” he began.

“By whom?”

Sirius took a moment to make up his mind, then decided to go with it.

“Augustus Blishwick.”

“Your future brother-in-law,” James replied dryly. “Is he unhappy about the flower arrangements?”

“He doesn't like me,” Sirius answered plainly. “He tried to blackmail me, and when I didn't budge he convinced everyone that I was mad, or under some dubious influence.”

“Shouldn't be too difficult, given your entire bloody family is mad,” James interrupted, ignoring the daggers Sirius was glaring at him and nodding as if to give him a sign to proceed. “So...?”

“Before I got the chance to shut him up, he had managed to set up this lie and get it published.”

“What did he blackmail you with?”

Sirius was a little taken aback at the sudden question and hesitated for a moment.

“His own paranoia, mostly. He was convinced I was marrying his sister to get my hands on his inheritance and thought he had evidence.”

“But he didn't?”

“Obviously not, which is why he needed to discredit me,” Sirius answered pointedly. James didn't look very convinced. He let out a low whistle and narrowed his eyes critically.

“You know, Black... I don't think I'll believe you this heart-breaking story of domestic rivalry.”

“It's the truth!”

“Okay. Let's play this a little longer, then... How does the werewolf fit in?”

Heat rose to Sirius's cheeks and he could feel his shoulders grow tense. The Binding Spell on his arms didn't help.

“He's my valet,” he explained dully.

“So?”

“Blishwick thought... uh, he thought that as my secretary he might know too much...”

“...And because your lot is so high on werewolf rights, everybody would of course have believed your _slave's_ word against Lord Blishwick's,” James finished and Sirius's heart sank a little. That lie had been decidedly lame.

“Blishwick might've thought so.”

James snorted.

“Sure.”

“Remus didn't kidnap me,” Sirius emphasised icily.

“I think I just said that. That's not what you have to prove here.”

“Then what's your problem?” Sirius snapped.

“The fact that you're lying. And quite obviously so.”

The other man leaned back and regarded him with an icy stare. Somewhere in the room, a clock was ticking loudly and Sirius had to focus hard to remember what they were even talking about. His thoughts were muddled with too many questions, too many warnings, too much caution to form a proper reply and wind himself out of the corner he was in. James had fallen completely silent and it felt like every moment convinced him a little more of Sirius's guilt.

He hesitated and wet his lips.

“Look,” he began, trying to sound calm and cooperative. “I told you the truth about Blishwick. Things got... a little out of hand and Remus just... happened to be there. By incident; it wasn't his fault. He needed somewhere to transform and when the Prophet published that story...” He fell silent and scowled at James's expressionless face. “Either believe me or not. But this is the truth.”

James looked at him for a long moment and his features hardened when he eventually got up from his chair and leaned towards Sirius.

“You disgust me, Black,” he hissed. “And, you know what, I'm sick of this now.”

“I'm not lying to you!” Sirius snapped.

“Yes, you are,” James replied coldly. “And trust me, we will find out the truth once we have saved your 'valet' from his multiple internal bleedings.” He glared at Sirius, whose lips were pressed into a thin line at the remark about Remus's injury. He hadn't known how severe the consequences of transformation could be...

However, his blood froze when James continued, raising his wand.

“He might just tell us the truth about why his owner tortured him within an inch of his life.”

Everything went black again.

***

Sirius handed a note to Remus, barely sparing the other man a look as he left. When he was alone he stood up from his chair and walked into his bedroom, where someone stepped out of the fireplace, sneering at him. Sirius turned away; telling himself that it was Lucius Malfoy. Striding back through his office and leaving it through the other door, Sirius found the marble staircase of Way the Lind lying outside. He climbed it, making his way to Bellatrix's office like so many times. As he walked down the corridor, a loud bang was audible from behind the door and Sirius thought he could hear quiet steps behind him. He fought the urge to once again turn around on his heels and closed his eyes instead, shaking his head. It was not that day, not that day. Silence descended and when Sirius knocked at the door and stepped in, Bellatrix greeted him warmly.

“I almost thought you were going to be late.”

A group of werewolves was filing in and Sirius couldn't make out their faces. A sudden desire to find Remus overtook him and without really knowing why, he tried to picture him, remember what he looked like, who he was among the others. As soon as he had lifted his eyes to look at the first werewolf's face, fear spread throughout his body and he shrank back. A faint voice in his head taunted him and he couldn't think anything other than that he couldn't. Couldn't.

Panicked, he ran from the room, out onto the cold, wet streets and there he was, Remus, writhing in pain. A wave of guilt overcame Sirius and again he fought it back blindly. Safety, he thought, they needed to get off the street. Somewhere sheltered, somewhere where rationality could take over again. It was all Blishwick's fault. His mind was blank when he tried to pick up Remus's heavy body and he reached for a nearby door handle.

The bedroom was empty and yet Sirius was shaking. Remus beside him had straightened up. There was a strange, undefined tension in the air and Sirius wanted something, wanted it so much, he thought he might burst if he didn't... didn't...

_Didn't what?_ The voice seemed to prod him on, whisper a sense of courage into him. _What do you want? What do you want?_ Sirius shook his head. Couldn't, couldn't. _Couldn't what?_

“No,” he murmured, trying to step away, back into the street. He needed to run, but his feet, he couldn't move them; they were stuck and he still wanted something, something. He didn't want to think the word, but how could he resist, how could he not... not... Augustus Blishwick burst out of the fireplace... not yet, not before...

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” he suddenly cried, jolting awake and away from the person kneeling beside him. He was on the floor and, he noticed, untied. There was a woman he didn't know and she looked half shocked, half surprised. Sirius shifted away from her, eyes darting about the room, just in time to see James's spell that immobilised him and caused him to fall to the floor like a log.

It didn't knock him out completely.

“How dare you!” the woman's voice was audible and a moment later she was back next to Sirius's motionless form, checking on his vital signs. He couldn't move. She turned back to James. Sirius couldn't see him from where he lay, but he recognised his voice.

“What's the matter with you?” he asked and from the sound of it he had to block a spell half a second later.

“How dare you use Legilimency on an unconscious patient of mine, James Potter!” she raged, and he snorted.

“Oh, and you were so enthusiastic about seeing him, were you? You looked like you'd rather have him euthanised when I asked you to...”

“That's not the point,” she seethed. Sirius couldn't help noticing that she didn't actually deny anything. Blinking against the headache that was almost blinding him, he tried to focus enough to understand what she said. “...a matter of honour! Of ethical principles!”

“Oh, please,” James retorted, “Do you think he or his people would think twice about doing it? He's lying; you know as well as I do that he's hiding something and I will be damned if I don't find out what it is! Do you want us to meet the same end as Scotland? As Ireland? What if they're on the move _right now_? What if he knows?”

“We don't know what happened there,” she replied faintly and he snorted again.

“Indeed. Because those who're not dead are missing! What we know is that someone sold them out and if he knows who, trust me, I will tear it from his conscious or unconscious mind before it's too late!” The sizzling of sparks was audible as he waved his wand impatiently. “Perhaps I should Crucio it out of him, if his brain's out of bounds?”

“ _James!_ ” she yelled, fury in her voice. “As long as he is in my care, you will not touch him _or_ his mind!”

James let out an exasperated sigh and it sounded to Sirius as if he was swallowing down a whole bunch of words. When seconds passed and James didn't reply, however, the woman added quietly, but determinedly, “James, there's got to be something that differentiates us from them...”

It was quiet again and steps were audible. Sirius could hear the shuffling of clothes.

“Fair enough,” James's slightly muffled voice reached his ears and a second later the man came into his field of vision, standing a little away and fixating Sirius with a hard stare. “I will find out, one way or another.”

A wave of his wand later, Sirius could move again, if limitedly. He didn't take his eyes off James. Potter, he thought. James Potter. Who would have thought...?

The faint memory of a black and white photograph in a newspaper came back to his mind and he could hear his parents' voices, arguing over something. He looked at the picture; unable to read the words around it. A man and a woman in court, tied to their chairs as they were sentenced for high treason. The Potters, Sirius thought; the woman, she looked familiar, she looked like James. Back then he had thought that she looked not unlike his own mother, just older...

Sirius flinched at the touch of the woman's hands, even though she seemed determined to be as swift as possible. She didn't hurt him, but she made no effort to be gentle and never once looked into his face as she worked. Her lips were firmly set.

“Doesn't seem to be seriously injured,” she said curtly and got to her feet. “Keep it that way!” Sirius noticed only now the outward curve underneath her clothes that indicated that she was with child. He also saw that there was no ring on her finger. He looked away again.

“Well, then,” James said coolly, “I suppose I can take it from here?”

“He remains my patient,” she replied sharply, but didn't bother with as much as a last glance at Sirius's supine form before she left. Sirius looked after her, then turned his head towards James, who was, surprisingly, not eyeing him suspiciously, but staring at the door as it fell shut behind the woman.

“She couldn't be a Weasley, could she?”

James's head snapped towards Sirius and his eyes narrowed.

“It's none of your business who she is.”

Sirius watched as James walked across the room, readjusting the Locking Charm on the window so it became fairly opaque. The light in the room dimmed. They were no longer in his office, Sirius noticed, but a smaller, shabbier room with a mattress in one corner and a chair close by the door. A cell.

“Let's start again from the beginning, Black,” James began. “I will sum up. You are wandless and at my mercy and, Merlin knows, after what I saw last night I am not at all inclined to show any more of that mercy.” He looked at Sirius. “Thirty-seven innocent people died last night, Black, and we're still counting. Let me give you an honest piece of advice – you're not going to survive another fairy tale like the one yesterday.”

Sirius held his gaze, his face a mask of cold composure.

“I can only tell you what I know.”

“Don't think I can't tell lies from truth, Black.” James retorted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know what Lestrange is up to.”

“No, I don't.”

“Oh, right. You don't work for him,” James snapped and Sirius stuck out his chin.

“Too correct. I don't. I hate Lestrange. Do your research; it's not even that much of a secret,” he replied obstinately and James let out a bitter laugh.

“Like personal dislikes are of any importance for your lot when it comes to power.”

“They are, in my case,” Sirius answered.

“Oh, yeah? You said you and Blishwick hated each other, too,” James snarled. “So how come you got engaged to his sister?”

“That had nothing to do with it. I didn't know Augustus by then. At least not personally,” Sirius added and shifted in his sitting position. James eyed him.

“Instant animosity, was it?”

“Something like that,” Sirius answered reluctantly. “We are suspicious of each other.” 

James smirked.

“Indeed, you seemed rather upset when he burst out of that fireplace...”

Sirius didn't reply.

“Then why did you get engaged to her? Money? She's not the richest you could have.”

“I don't know,” Sirius snapped. “I just did. I had to marry someone and... she was there.”

Somewhere in his mind the memory of a balcony in Way the Lind began to rise from the depths, whirls of smoke forming high pillars and the artfully carved balustrade. He could see the moonlight, his hand on Bellatrix's as she wanted to draw her wand. Gingerly, he nudged her towards the door, muttering something about wanting to talk to Lord Blishwick in private...

“Keep out of my thoughts,” he whispered and jerked his head as if he wanted to parry a blow with it, sounding perhaps a little more confident than he actually felt as he warded his mind. “Don't even try. I know how to keep you out.”

“I would not be so sure about that.” James cocked his eyebrow, but ceased to prod at Sirius's defences. Something akin to understanding flickered in his eyes and Sirius scowled. “So, you randomly figured you'd marry Octavia Blishwick. And then her brother decided he didn't like you and tried to set you up. And because Lestrange doesn't like you, either, you had to do a runner and your werewolf just came along for the fun of it.”

“I'm not lying to you,” Sirius snapped, irritated, realising just how dumb the story sounded. “There was no reason I chose Octavia. She was least annoying of them all... she didn't have a hare lip, for one.”

“Not sure how flattered Margarethe would be if she heard you say that,” James replied to Sirius's surprise. “She has quite a sense for humour, for a German princess, anyway.”

“You know her.” Sirius felt as if he'd been smacked over the head and James narrowed his eyes. He had assumed that the Ministry had been infiltrated to some degree because the place was corrupt to the core, but he hadn't expected Lestrange's private party...

“Yes, I do. And I should tell you that she had curious things to relate when she returned from Lestrange's little get-together.” James stepped up to Sirius and smiled icily. “Perhaps I should fill you in and then we can compare just whose story makes more sense.”

Sirius swallowed. James took a deep breath.

“As I see it, you took over your father's business,” he began with a grand and slightly mocking gesture, “but things were rather hard, weren't they? Political situation wasn't the best. You needed to stabilise your business and you needed to save some face before the public because talk of your elusiveness and apparent incapability was beginning to spread. What to do? Lestrange might not have wanted to help you, but Bellatrix did – don't even deny it. She gave you twelve werewolves, fully knowing what Rodolphus was up to in the Ministry, and she told you to marry a Blishwick since they were already involved in Rodolphus's illicit affairs.” Sirius shook his head faintly, but James ignored it. “Suddenly two doors opened – by accepting the werewolves you made yourself a welcome accomplice in Lestrange's plot and by marrying Octavia you showed loyalty and secured his trust. A secret meeting took place at the ball at Way the Lind,” he added, silencing Sirius before he could utter a word to the contrary. “You were seen as you left the ballroom, following Lestrange, Blishwick and Malfoy. The next day you were said to be engaged to Octavia and Lord Blishwick got sent to Scotland.”

“And how is this any less speculation than what I said?” Sirius snapped. James laughed humourlessly.

“ _You_ joined Lord Blishwick in Scotland. _You_ had barely left by the time one of our posts got blown up and half of Glasgow burned to the ground. _You_ disappeared from the face of the earth the other night and while everyone was distracted by the drama in the Prophet, Lestrange had moved troops to Ireland and blew up an entire neighbourhood in Belfast, killing dozens of innocent people along with one of our headquarters, not to mention-”

“I never knew anything about Ireland,” Sirius protested. “And I went to Scotland because I needed to settle my marriage.”

“Marriages are settled by lawyers,” James replied flatly.

“That's not true.”

“You were at Way the Lind the day the Werewolf Act got amended.”

“So what? I went to see Bellatrix. She sent me a note.”

“Strange. You see, one of our men had a chat with a very enraged Fenrir Greyback, who told us that you never actually got to talk to her.” James fingered his wand gingerly. “But you seemed well prepared when Rodolphus sent you word – and we _know_ that he sent Augustus specifically to alert you of something – and you left, taking your werewolf with you and leaving behind a fully warded house and a whole lot of mystery for Lestrange to work with in his favour. You see, now he can placate werewolves as _officialy_ dangerous and not just hypothetically. So when his monster of a wife unleashes Greyback onto their enemies, he won't only have a whole new bunch of slaves, he'll also have convenient arguments to back up his more radical future projects. And you, the poor victim of the plot, will return to your estate and marry your rich pureblood bride and enjoy the rest of your life comfortably feeding off the crumbs Lestrange and his wife will throw you. The annoying evidence that is Remus Lupin will _officially_ have died of the consequences of full moon transformation because who would bother looking close enough to find the traces of preceding torture? Only a werewolf, is he?” He finished, having talked himself into rage, and looked at Sirius with a hard look in his eyes. Sirius needed a moment to collect his wits.

“I can see how this makes sense to you,” he said slowly, looking James in the eye. “But it's not true. I am not working with Lestrange, I did not join them at their meeting-”

“No, you just went for a leisurely stroll.”

“...Yes.” Sirius felt hot all of a sudden. “I did. I needed to get away from the crowd...”

“Of course.”

“It's the truth,” Sirius whispered. “I didn't know what Lestrange planned, or is planning. I knew he was going to cause trouble somewhere because he wasn't getting the rebellion he'd been hoping for,” he added quickly, “but I was not involved.”

“So why have you been playing into Lestrange's hands, then? Is he just one lucky bastard? Why did you leave and take a werewolf with you, of all people?”

Sirius could feel James's eyes boring into him and he wet his lips.

“You're right,” he began slowly, trying to find some angle that would help him. “Lestrange did send Blishwick to get me, apparently. But I never knew why. I... I had a fight with Blishwick,” he pressed out eventually. “We had... an argument that got out of hand.”

“Must have been some interesting argument between the two of you, given you are now wanted alive in return for a lot of money and there's a rather attractive bounty on that werewolf's head,” James snorted. Sirius admitted he had a point and his heart sank.

“I just panicked. I don't know. He wanted to attack Remus and all I could do was use the bracelet and get us out.” He hesitated. “And then we needed to hide. It happened really fast; I can't say how this happened...”

“I daresay you didn't.” James shifted. “How noble of you to save your slave like that. So noble, you had to make up for it by using that handy bracelet you lot have invented...”

Sirius's eyes shot up to meet James's.

“You know, Potter, you seem to be labouring under the impression that I hate my servants,” he snapped. “I daresay you have nothing to base that on except prejudice.”

“Experience.”

“I have no reason to hate Remus Lupin. I'm not pleased with what I had to do, believe it or not. He is a loyal valet and I'm not letting Blishwick have a go at my staff.”

“More like your property, I should think,” James sneered, then smiled sweetly. “Fair enough. But please, perhaps you could explain to me what the argument with Blishwick was about that you would have had to save your dutiful werewolf at the end of it?”

“...Something stupid.”

“Well, tell me.” When Sirius didn't reply, James stepped closer and drew his wand. “You do realise that your story is missing a number of crucial elements to be believable, Black? There seems to be an astounding amount of random decisions on everyone's part in there. And I wasn't born yesterday. I'm warning you, spill the fucking beans if you know what's good for yourself.”

“We just fought, okay?” Sirius blurted out, a desperate kind of anger flaring up inside him. “About... the wedding. And money... I don't know!”

James was about to reply when the door opened and the red-haired woman stuck her head in. She looked as if she'd been crying and James frowned, an instant look of worry on his face.

“What's wrong?”

“Frank sent me,” she spoke in a subdued voice, ignoring Sirius and looking straight at James. She cleared her voice and tried to sound calm and matter-of-fact. “He's back and he's waiting in your office. They will need your help.” She swallowed. “There's two bodies we can't identify.”

James nodded, expression empty all of a sudden.

“I'll be there,” he answered quietly and she sent him a forced smile before she closed the door. Sirius's mind worked rapidly, wondering if she was, in fact, a Weasley.

“The Prewetts have some redhead Irish blood, if I remember correctly...” he mused aloud and James raised his wand again, looking grim.

“You would do better to keep your mouth shut, Black,” he hissed.

Sirius held his gaze, trying to fit the lost son of the long gone Potter family, Ireland, the rebellion and red-headed women into the same picture. Sinking back to the floor he never took his eyes off James, who didn't seem to be paying him any attention, but apparently tried to remember what they'd talked about. Sirius watched quietly.

“Perhaps she's not a pureblood,” it suddenly hit him and from the twitch of James's jaw, he realised that he'd hit a nerve. “She's a mudb-”

James's Stinging Hex hit him before he could finish the word.

“Don't. Ever.” James was hovering above him in a flash. “Say this word. In my presence.”

“So she is,” Sirius muttered, eyes fixed on the tip of James's wand, which was aimed between his eyes. He looked at James. “And the child, is it yours? It is, isn't, it?”

This time, James Potter actually grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and poked his wand into Sirius's chest.

“Listen, Black – I am so sick of your silly little games. Contrary to what you think, I have no moral issue whatsoever to take a leaf out of your book and mince your guts before cracking your head open and digging past your meagre defences into your screwed up, inhibited head...”

“But you do,” Sirius choked out, gasping for breath. James snarled and Sirius wished he hadn't said anything. His skull suddenly threatened to burst with pain and he pressed his eyes shut. Images flashed before his mind's eye in rapid succession, Remus lying on a dingy bed in a shady hotel room, Bellatrix laughing, Augustus Blishwick Disapparating, _'Don't think I don't know what you were doing!'_... no, no, no...

“What are you hiding?” James suddenly yelled at him, fury and despair in his voice. “What is your fucked-up subconscious locking away?”

“Nothing!”

“ _Liar!_ ”

Physical pain shot up Sirius's spine and for the first time in his life, he couldn't stop numb tears falling from his eyes; he couldn't have said why. Moonlight fell onto the balustrade at Way the Lind, throwing shadows onto Remus's face. Remus knelt in a sea of documents and papers, cursing under his breath. Remus's green eyes looked up at him as he loosened the last hook of his wedding garments...

“No, no, no, no...!”

“ _What have you done to him?_ ” James shouted in his face and Sirius wondered if he was already halfway to unconsciousness, since he wasn't sure he felt anything anymore. There seemed to be nothing beyond James's face and his angry, frustrated voice, both outside and inside his head. And pain.

“Nothing,” he breathed, panic flooding his mind.

“Liar! What have you done? What is he hiding?”

“I told you...”

“ _TELL ME THE TRUTH!_ ”

White crept into Sirius's vision and he shook his head, blinded not necessarily by the pain, he thought, but by... everything. He felt as if claws were trying to dig into his head to a point where his mind seemed to dissolve, fade into nothingness.

Sirius flinched with pain when he was roughly thrown back down to the floor. He half expected a spell to hit him, but to his surprise, none came. Or perhaps he was beyond feeling it. His vision was blurred and seemed cracked, white spots dancing before his eyes, screaming pain behind them. Unable to move any further, he turned his head to glance at the other man.

James seemed to be forcing himself back under control with great difficulty. The knuckles of his fingers had turned white from clenching his wand and his arms were shaking.

“I will,” he panted, “Break you... to pieces... if I must... to save my own…”

Sirius looked at him and it felt like it took him a long time to understand what he'd said. His face was wet with tears and he thought his nose had begun to bleed again. He wanted to speak, but somehow words wouldn't form, neither in his mind nor in his mouth. He whimpered softly.

“Perhaps I should just kill you,” James muttered. “There is nothing to be got from your crippled, inhibited pure-blood mind.”

Sirius tried to clear his throat and grimaced at the effort and pain it cost him.

James stepped over him. He crouched down to meet Sirius's gaze, that was now directed straight at the ceiling, emptiness mirrored in his grey eyes. “What is it,” he whispered slowly, absent-mindedly, “that you've buried in there?” The tip of his wand sifted through Sirius's tangled hair, poking at his skull. “What is it that is so forbidden that you couldn't even think it? What have you done? And why,” he added, “why is the werewolf lying for you?”

Sirius blinked and another tear might have rolled down his face; he wasn't sure. His mind felt like a cracked, white wall that stood under a lot of pressure. Slowly, and under great pain, blood seemed to seep through the cracks. James's words echoed somewhere far off.

“I... don't... know...” Sirius mouthed. “Anything...”

It didn't feel like a lie.

“Why is he protecting you after what you did to him?”

“I... didn't...”

“Yes, you did.” James pulled out a familiar bracelet and dropped it onto Sirius's chest. “Only you could have done it.”

Before Sirius's eyes, the image of James began to flicker and fade. He felt his eyes fall shut, slowly...

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” A splash of cold water in his face kept Sirius from fainting. He didn't immediately react, but he blindly swallowed when it filled his mouth and washed over his face. The cold, he realised, cleared his head and soon the white nothingness in his head began to diffuse back into shapes of colour, forming the image of James Potter before him.

“Maybe I should ask your valet again,” he spoke quietly.

“Remus,” Sirius breathed, shaking his head weakly. “No...”

“He won't lie for you forever,” James continued softly. “He knows something, and there will come a point when he will tell me what it is you're hiding. He'll tell me the truth.”

Sirius stared at James, feeling endlessly empty.

“Don't... hurt him...”

“No, I don't think I will,” James muttered, then paused. “That is, I might, unless you tell me what really happened. What does Lestrange want? What's his plan?”

Sirius shook his head.

“I don't know... please... I don't know...”

A long moment of silence followed, or maybe it only seemed that way.

“Maybe you really don't,” James eventually whispered. “But I can't believe you, Black. Not before I know you have told me the truth...” He wiped a strand of hair out of Sirius's tear-stained face. “Tell me what really happened and I might believe you.”

“I can't,” Sirius gasped, feeling like he was falling backwards into a deep hole. “Remus... I... let me see him...”

“That's not going to happen,” James shook his head resolutely. This time Sirius was sure he had begun to cry again.

“...have to...”

“You can't.” James sounded very tired. “He needs to recover. From his life.”

“Please.”

At the very edge of his consciousness Sirius heard someone come in. James got up and moved away. There was talk and the unbearably loud rustling of paper.

Then, after a sudden, brief, yet endless moment of excruciating pain, Sirius let out one final scream before he went silent.

***

Nothing hurt. All was quiet, blissfully quiet. A gentle whisper reached his ear.

“-ke up … he's down to the left... quiet... go...”

Warmth filled Sirius's body and he slowly drifted back to full consciousness. It was dark around him and he found that, for one moment, his body wasn't aching. His limbs felt numb, and he thought that someone must have cast a spell against the pain. Someone... someone had woken him up.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to gather the strength to sit up. No answer came and when he had finally sat up and looked around the barely lit room, he saw nobody. He was alone. The door, he realised, was open just an inch. A faint ray of light fell in from the slightly brighter corridor outside.

Sirius tried to scramble to his feet, but little stars appeared before his eyes and he sat back down, breathing deeply. His eyes fell on a newspaper that lay not far off. When he grabbed it, it made the same rustling sound that he had heard shortly before... before...

He lifted the paper to his face, frowning to make out the writing in the darkness. It was hard to keep the letters from dancing. There was a number... and his name...

With growing horror, his eyes adjusted to the light and the headline became clear.

**_BLACK MANOR OPENED – 12 DEAD, SIRIUS BLACK ON THE RUN_ **

A wave of panic crept up Sirius's spine and, adrenaline pumping in his veins, he wished he could read the smaller print better. He scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards the door, holding the paper into the narrow ray of light that fell in.

_Aurors have finally been able to break through the defensive wards of Black Manor, the owner of which, Lord Sirius Black, has been considered missing since Tuesday night, April 29th (first mentioned in the Prophet on April 30th, evening issue). From the evidence present at the time it was gathered that he had fallen victim to a politically radical group that had removed him from his residence forcefully._

_New evidence collected from Black Manor itself has revealed the bodies of eleven werewolves that were, in their lifetime, in Lord Black's service. The body of the twelfth, his valet Remus Lupin, could not be found; however, a ragged and torn piece of clothing remains, soaked in said valet's blood and bearing traces of aggressive magic inflicted by what has been confirmed as Lord Black's wand. The Forensic Auror team currently working at Black Manor have stated that in all other eleven cases, death was confirmed as the result of prolonged torture and severe, continuous pain. As the head of the Auror team further remarked, the law considers this a case of cold-blooded murder that is to be punished regardless of the legal dark-creature status of werewolves._

_The approximate time of death of the creatures was confirmed to be April 30th, the day after Lord Black officially disappeared. The date coincides with the last time the wards of the manor were reinforced by Lord Black himself. It is assumed that Lord Black returned to commit the murders and then warded his estates extensively in order to delay investigation. Aurors were first trying to break into the building by the end of the day, at which time Lord Black was still believed to be the victim of a conspiracy. In how far Lord Black acted out of his own will is unclear._

_To date, no member of the Black family has been available for comment. Aurors are currently searching for Lord Sirius Black and encourage the public to notify the Auror office, should he show himself. “We haven't called the Dementors yet, out of respect for the Noble House of Black,” an Auror commented, “But we must bear in mind that this is a killer on the loose and public safety..._

Sirius dropped the newspaper and held on to the doorframe. The door opened an inch more when his arm brushed past it and he numbly looked outside into the empty corridor. Hesitantly he stepped out and looked up and down the eerie, darkened hall before he remembered the words he had woken up to and turned left. He wasn't sure what he was doing; it rather felt like he was watching himself from outside his body as he made his way down the hall. He had little left to lose. 

The sharp smell of potions attracted his attention and dazedly he stepped through an open door into a large room. Beds stood to both its sides, tall curtained windows separating them. Some of the beds had curtains drawn around them, even. A hospital ward. Slowly, Sirius stepped forward, not entirely steady on his feet. 

The first bed was empty and unmade, he realised, as if it had been left hurriedly. A small glass filled with a strange liquid stood on the bedside table, along with a wand, some napkins and a file. Before Sirius knew what he was doing, he had opened the file. 

_Remus John Lupin_ , it read, _born 10th of March, 1960, to Lyall and Hope Lupin in Waltham Forest, London... no siblings, ... attended primary school-_

A movement in the corner of his eye distracted Sirius and for a moment he stood staring at the haggard figure of Remus Lupin holding a glass of water. He was wearing a simple, greyish pyjama underneath which large parts of his body were bandaged. He was pale and his eyes were wide. Sirius looked at him blankly, as if he was unable to recognise his face, unable to figure out who he was, or how he should react to him. The numb memory of burning pain had left him strangely hollow inside. 

He closed the file in his hands and turned to put it back down, when his eyes fell onto another issue of the Prophet that lay on the floor next to Remus's bed. He inhaled sharply and shook his head, staring at the other man pleadingly. 

“I didn't do it,” he choked out. “I swear, I didn't do it...” 

Remus's hand holding the glass had begun to shake and he stepped up to the bedside table and put it down carefully. Sirius could smell the faint scent of salves and potions cling to him as he moved past him. 

“I know you didn't,” Remus replied quietly, not looking at Sirius. He shifted uncomfortably when Sirius motioned him to get back into bed, but obeyed. Sirius sat down on a small chair on the other side of the bed, knotting his fingers. He had felt like so much needed to be said, yet now he wasn't sure whether there was anything left. 

“I told them you didn't do it,” Remus said and Sirius looked up, still at a loss of words. Remus looked at his hands, tugging at the frayed corner of a bandage. “I told them you wouldn't... that it wasn't like you to do it.” He shook his head in frustration and pressed his lips together. “They didn't really want to believe me.” 

“I guess not,” Sirius replied, eyes focused on Remus's fingers as they dug at the small hole in the bandages. “One look at your wounds told them otherwise.” 

“I told them I knew who did it,” Remus snorted bitterly, “I have more than enough old scars on myself to prove it. The same wounds that killed the others. Only I wasn't allowed to die back then. I was patched up, again and again...” He fell quiet and took a deep breath to chase the memories from his mind. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “They wouldn't let me see you.” 

“I suppose,” Sirius choked, then cleared his throat quietly. “I suppose if you want to... get well, then... being reminded of me is not very productive. I... I owned you.” 

“I didn't mind it so much...” Remus muttered and Sirius smiled weakly. 

“That's the problem.” He rested one of his hands on the white covers to subtly support himself staying upright in his seat. “They want you to cut ties with what happened.” 

Remus was quiet for a while, then took the glass of water from the bedside table. He turned it between his hands, not taking a sip, but instead staring into it as he held it in his lap. 

“They say I have to learn to see myself as an independent person. To respect myself. Decide for myself.” He paused and took a sip. “They think if I do I will tell them.” 

Sirius looked up into Remus's eyes and swallowed. 

“You've been lying for me,” he croaked, throat dry. Remus handed him the water. 

“I don't trust them,” he said. “They've taken care of me, but... why would I?” 

“Why would you trust me?” Sirius asked and Remus was silent for a moment, averting his eyes. He looked at the palms of his hands for a moment, before his eyes darted towards Sirius's hand that was still resting on the white bed sheet. 

“They say,” he said, “that being a... a slave for so long... that it's affected me more deeply than I can realise now. But that the more I see myself as human, the more I will understand. I'll gain a better perspective on... on life and myself and... I'll learn to differentiate between loyalty and... emotional dependence.” He broke off and exhaled, a hint of frustration in his voice. His eyes were pressed shut. “But they've done nothing to earn my trust. You... you were good to me.” 

Sirius fought the tight feeling in his throat back and smiled hollowly. 

“You might not think so in a week's time,” he replied, closing his eyes at the thought that 'they' might be right and Remus's loyalty would soon be replaced by resentment, once he'd begun to grasp the reality of having been treated like an animal ever since he'd been eight. 

The sensation of Remus's fingers brushing hesitantly across the back of his hand caused him to open his eyes again. He looked up. 

“I don't know what I think anymore,” Remus muttered. “And I hate it. They told me about a new life I could have... somewhere on the continent, in a safe place...” His fingers paused for a moment and Sirius could feel the light pressure they applied. “I don't want a new life,” Remus said helplessly, looking at Sirius's hand and twining two of their fingers together. “I was so happy.” His voice was so quiet, Sirius had to read the words from his lips. 

“Don't tell them that,” he whispered, trying to sound light-hearted. 

“They hurt you.” It wasn't a question. Remus looked up and his eyes fell on the bloodstains on Sirius's shirt. “How could I trust them?” 

“They think I know what Lestrange is up to. They want to find out just what his next step will be,” Sirius croaked, wishing he sounded less pathetic. Remus held his gaze for a moment, then shook his head. 

“No, I don't think they do. I told them you didn't know and they didn't care. They must want something... else. They've infiltrated Lestrange's circle well enough to know what he's up to.” When Sirius frowned, Remus looked around as if to make sure they were alone. “At the ball,” he began, “remember how I mentioned one man I couldn't recognise, who went with Lestrange, Malfoy and Blishwick?” Sirius nodded. “He's here.” 

“What?” 

“He's here,” Remus repeated. “I've seen him. He's friends with that man, James.” He paused. “If he went to that meeting, they know what Lestrange is planning. This is as close as anyone could get. They should also know that you're not a part of the group.” 

“Did you tell them that you know?” Sirius asked feebly and Remus hesitated. 

“No.” He shook his head. “I figured... it might be unwise to. Whenever I said anything, they wouldn't believe me, so... I don't know. But they must be after something else.” 

Sirius fell silent and forced himself to remember what James Potter had tried to pry out of him. If he'd already known all of it... what else was there he could possibly have wanted? What had been the purpose of all the pain, if nothing Sirius had said had been of any importance...? Sirius cringed. All the blood and agony, what for? 

He realised he was shaking and he forced himself to get a grip. Remus's hand was still on top of his own and it seemed to Sirius as if he was secretly holding on to it. It was silent and neither of them could seem to find something to say. 

“They are trying to find out who I was. Am.” Remus tone was light and hesitant and Sirius looked up, meeting his eyes. Remus shrugged. “Not much to tell so far... but my father was a wizard, did you know?” Sirius shook his head and Remus smiled faintly. “They gave me a wand!” 

Sirius looked past Remus's to the bedside table, from which Remus was taking the wand with his free hand, eyeing it a little helplessly. Sirius chuckled before he could help himself and Remus waved it with a wry expression. 

“The Healer, Lily,” he sighed, “she tried to teach me some simple spells. But all I managed to do was blow her assistant's glasses off by accident.” 

“I reckon you'll learn in time,” Sirius replied, then quickly ducked when Remus managed to make sparks fly from the tip of the wand. 

“Sorry,” Remus grimaced and Sirius realised he was genuinely smiling when he shook his head in mock reproach. Remus put down the wand and took a deep breath, his smile slowly fading when he caught Sirius's eyes. Their hands hadn't let go and Remus's grip tightened as he sat up more straight. Sirius watched him, ignoring the squirming feeling in his stomach as Remus slowly leaned closer. 

Something akin to a sob escaped Sirius's throat when their lips met, though they could barely said to be touching. Remus's breath tasted of some potions herb as he gently coaxed Sirius's lips apart and brushed his against them. Swallowing a gasp, Sirius returned the slight pressure. 

They sat kissing quietly, shyly, until Remus rested his forehead against Sirius's and sighed. He nudged Sirius's nose with his own. Somewhere, Sirius noticed, somewhere in his chest, the little glowing feeling was still there. 

“It hasn't changed,” Remus whispered. “This, it still feels... it's the same.” 

“It is,” Sirius smiled, a little sadly, and he placed a last kiss to Remus's lips before moving away. 

“Don't go.” 

“I can't stay,” Sirius replied. “I'm not supposed to be here.” 

Remus frowned. 

“How did you get here, anyway?” 

“Yes,” said James's from the door. “How _did_ you get here?” 


	8. La Mort

Unable to move, Sirius watched as James stepped closer, wand outstretched.

“Fancy a walk, did you, Black?”

Remus was shifting in his bed, clutching Sirius's hand painfully hard, but Sirius sat frozen, a feeling of sickness rising in his stomach. He drew in a shuddering breath and somewhere in his mind a voice was screaming at him to answer, to react, to get up and run for his life, but he couldn't.

“James, what on earth...?”

“Lily,” Remus burst out and the woman turned her head, eyes widening in surprise when she saw Sirius sit next to Remus's bed, looking as if he was going to faint any second.

“James, what is going on?” she hissed, looking to and fro between James and the men at the bed.

“That's what I'd like to know,” James replied grimly, eyes set on Sirius. “I'm especially interested in how he managed to get out of his cell.”

“Quiet!” Lily snapped, looking around the room, then back to James. “Keep it down, okay? This is a hospital wing...” she muttered.

James pressed his lips together and nodded curtly before turning back to Sirius.  
“I woke up,” Sirius whispered. “The door was open.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” James snapped. “My Locking Charms hold. Besides, you don't just 'wake up' from being hexed into oblivion. And trust me, I made sure to aim well...”

Sirius exhaled shakily and tightened his grip on Remus's hand to keep upright.

“I don't know,” he pressed out. “Someone... someone woke me up...”

“How do you mean?” Lily asked, frowning. It was the first time she spoke to him directly. “Who woke you up?”

“I don't know. I never saw anyone...”

“Convenient,” James snorted. “A mysterious someone woke you up, set you free and here you are, aye?”

Sirius didn't reply. He stared at the floor, lips trembling. Lily cleared her throat.

“Well, to be fair, James,” she began slowly, “I do find it difficult to believe that he could have freed himself. I mean, look at him. He can hardly sit upright...”

James snorted and began pacing restlessly, then shook his head. He looked faintly like a caged tiger, seemingly restraining his volatile nature for Lily's sake.

“Who else would have? It's the middle of the night,” he replied, irritated. “Everyone's asleep!”

“ _You're_ awake,” Remus suddenly said and James halted in his steps, glaring at him.

“I was woken up because this one here was reported missing.”

“Who woke you up, then?” Remus sounded more stubborn than Sirius had ever seen him. It appeared to add to James's irritation.

“The night patrol,” James hissed, looking at Lily, who was frowning. “When we were finally done in the morgue, I was about ready to collapse...” He paused, then shook his head. “I was supposed to do the night shift, but when the headache potion didn't help one bit, Peter offered to finish the paperwork on Ireland and do the check-up rounds. He was on his first patrol when he saw that Black's cell was open. He came straight to me and we split up to find him...” He glared at Sirius, who was gazing at him emptily. “Should've known he'd come here. What are you up to, Black?”

“James, I said keep it down!” Lily hissed, noticing how Remus was tensing up in his bed, “Maybe we should move this discussion out of the hospital wing, before someone-”

“Lily? James?”

Lily's shoulders dropped and she turned around, smiling tiredly.

“Hello, Sybill.”

“Is something the matter?” the other witch asked, looking from one to the next, frowning when she saw Sirius, but saving herself the commentary. “I thought I was doing the night round? I'm sorry, I must've dozed off for a second, but everything was so quiet...”

“Yeah,” Lily sighed. “Sorry, unexpected change of plans... don't worry. Everything's still quiet so far, I can take it for the rest of the night.”

Eyes still darting around the scene behind her thick glasses, Sybill nodded, then yawned.

“I suppose I can go to bed, then,” she muttered, turning around, when something on Remus's bedside table distracted her. “I'll just take this away...”

Grabbing the small potions glass, she made to shuffle off, but Lily stopped her.

“Hang on – what is this?”

“This?” Sybill eyed the contents of the glass. “I have no idea; I didn't put it there.”

Lily took the glass and sniffed it tentatively. Frowning, she held it against the faint light and gave it a gentle shake. She sniffed it again, then pulled her wand and muttered a spell. Her expression darkened.

“I should hope so,” she said to Sybill, then looked at James. “Essence of Irish meadowhag.” When he didn't look like this was any information he could use, she explained. “A rare breed of meadowsweet, created and cultivated by Celtic magic folks in the first century AD. When other herbs became more easily available, they abandoned it. Too much work. Nowadays it's so rare, you wouldn't expect to find it anywhere. _It thins the blood_ ,” she pressed out urgently and looked at Remus. “Please tell me you didn't drink it.”

“What? Why?” James frowned.

“Because it would work like acid on your wounds,” she choked, eyes still fixed on Remus. “You'd bleed to death internally and there's nothing we could do about it at this point... Remus!”

Remus looked at the glass in her hand, petrified, then shook his head slowly.

“I didn't even notice it,” he croaked. “It wasn't there when I woke up.”

“When was that?” James asked sharply and Remus shook his head again.

“I don't know for sure. I just woke up and suddenly felt very thirsty, so I got myself a glass of water.” He nodded past the other beds towards the little bathroom on the other end of the room. “And when I came back...” He looked at Sirius, who was listening quietly. Remus cleared his throat. “I don't know how it got there.”

“It was there when I came in,” Sirius suddenly spoke, slowly recovering from his state of shock. James cocked an eyebrow.

“Or maybe it came in with you?”

Sirius didn't quite know how, but he managed to hold James's gaze.

“Where would I have got it from?”

James didn't seem much moved by the argument, but Lily spoke before he could say anything, her voice grim.

“I hate to say it, James, but he does have a point.” She looked at Sirius and bit her lip, looking rather displeased. “This isn't something he could've found in our potions cabinet, even if he'd snuck in while Sybill was sleeping, and I'm not sure it would've survived if he already had it on him when Frank found them...”

James looked at her for a moment, as if he was considering how good of a point she was making. He narrowed his eyes, then sighed impatiently.

He threw a glance towards Remus and Sirius and drew his wand. A silver stag appeared.

“Go to Frank and tell him to double-check the wards. There might be an intruder.”

The stag galloped off and for a moment it was quiet. Sybill sniffed, but nobody paid her any attention. Sirius was glancing at Remus from the corner of his eye, but Remus was busy glaring at James, who raised an eyebrow when he noticed.

“If someone managed to get past our wards, we'll know.”

“So you think someone broke into your secret hideout, freed Sirius, handed him something poisonous to pass on to me and then disappeared?” Remus asked tetchily. “Wouldn't a clean Killing Curse have saved everyone a lot of trouble?” He looked from James to Lily and back.

“Poisoning you in this way would have been less suspicious,” Lily replied flatly. “It would have looked like you'd died from the wounds you already had. It was damn close, you know. We weren't sure you'd make it when you were brought here...”

“But why would I have stayed?” Sirius asked. “Why not grab the wand and run for it?”

“To make sure he really drank it?”

“Not very successful, considering he failed to even point it out to me,” Remus snorted.

“Perhaps he was interrupted too soon.”

Remus looked like he wanted to reply something, but they were distracted by a man whom Sirius recognised as 'Doctor Jim'.

“Frank,” James greeted him and the man returned by mock-saluting tiredly.

“James. I checked every single, measly Warding Spell we ever cast on the place. Twice.” He sighed and shook his head. “Nothing. Everything's fine.” He looked around and raised his eyebrows in surprise when he saw Sirius. He let out a low whistle. “Okay, what exactly happened here?”

“Pete came to wake me up because he found Black's cell open and empty,” James explained. “Turns out he went to find Lupin and in some – as I am told – _completely unrelated_ manner, a glass of poison mysteriously appeared on this bedside table, that would have offed our werewolf subtly and without attracting attention, had he drunk it...”

“Convenient,” Frank replied curtly, frowning. “So you think someone might have got in...?”

“It's a possibility,” James mused, looking uncomfortable at the thought. “At least... I think we can assume that Black would've needed some kind of help getting past my spells...”

“Possibly, but...” Frank hesitated and his expression darkened. “...the wards are intact, James.”

A long, heavy silence followed. James was clutching his wand and grinding his jaw so loudly, Sirius thought he could hear his teeth crack. It was clear that all three of them, James, Lily and Frank, had the same, ugly thought they didn't really want to think.

Glancing from one to the other, Sirius was suddenly struck by a thought.

“James.” His voice was hollow and the other man's eyes flashed up to bore into him. Sirius swallowed and thought that his throat felt very dry all of a sudden. “I need you to tell me the truth,” he croaked.

“What?” James scowled. “What are you on ab-”

“Tell me!” Sirius cut him off sharply. “How much do you really know about the secret meeting at Way the Lind?”

James looked at him with a mixture of horror and utter confusion.

“I know that it took place.”

“You don't know what they talked about.”

“No,” James replied after a moment of silence. “And I thought neither did you?”

Sirius didn't reply, but sank back into his chair. He looked up to see Remus's face, white as a sheet.

“The blonde man...” Remus muttered, then looked at Sirius, then at Lily, then at James. “He’s not _your_ spy...”

“What?” Lily blurted out. “Who’s spying for whom?”

“I was there, at Way the Lind,” Remus continued, eyes dazed as he remembered. “I was told to keep an eye on Lestrange and I followed his party – Lestrange, Malfoy, Blishwick – out of the ballroom. They were joined by a man I didn't know and hadn't seen before. He was blonde and wore dark purple robes. At some point I couldn't follow them any more...” Remus looked at James. “He's here. I saw him with you when you came to interrogate me.” He paused. “I thought he'd been a spy for your side.”

James glared at Remus stonily.

“Funny you didn't say anything.”

“Considering the fact that you already didn't want to believe a word of what I was trying to tell you?” Remus retorted and James crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“And how do I know you're not lying for your 'master' again?”

Remus glared back obstinately, but before he could say something more, Frank had spoken up in a low voice.

“That's a serious accusation, James,” he said, pausing. He seemed to consider his words carefully. “But... I think... for the safety of... of everyone... we need to at least acknowledge the possibility that-”

“Shut up,” James snapped.

Frank lifted his hands defensively and fell quiet. James started to pace again, glowering at Sirius from behind his glasses. Cold fury was visible in his face and he ran a hand through his hair. His eyes were darting about wildly until they came to rest on the curve of Lily's belly. James pressed his lips together and held his breath for a moment.

He stopped in his tracks and hung his shoulders. His voice was very quiet.

“Find Peter.”

Frank turned around on his heel and strode out of the room with fast steps, sending his patronus ahead. Lily was watching James with a shadow of terror on her face. James looked like he was about to throw a fit.

“This is my best friend you're accusing,” he spat at the two men at the bed. “If this is a bad joke, then...”

“James,” Lily cut in softly, putting a hand on his arm. “Either way, we'll find out.”

“He wouldn't, Lily,” James muttered frantically. “After all they've done to his family... he wouldn't. How could he? Scotland used to be his old unit, he wouldn't betray them... and he was _beside himself_ with grief when he heard of Belfast...”

Lily sighed and tightened her grip on James's arm, mumbling soothing words that Sirius couldn't understand. Sirius sat still, staring into thin air for a while, when he suddenly flinched with realisation.

“He saw me, didn't he?” He looked at James. “He'd just returned when he came in and saw me tied to the chair. And he couldn't be sure how much I knew...”

“Or me,” Remus spoke quietly, gazing at the glass of meadowhag in Lily's hand. He ran his thumb across the back of Sirius's hand. “So he waited for a moment to sneak me the poison and let you out of your cell. Knowing that you'd get the blame, especially after the Prophet's story...”

James let out a growling sound as if he wanted to object, but in that moment, Frank reappeared, face blank. He couldn't seem to look James in the eye.

“He's gone, James,” he croaked. “Pete's gone.”

A loud thunder shook the room. Then another. And another.

“The wards,” Lily breathed faintly, dropping the glass of poison and shaking her wand down her sleeve with surprising agility. “James...”

“He fucking sold us out,” James whispered, pale as a ghost.

A heartbeat later the shrill sound of alarm began to shriek throughout the building. Frank and James were casting patronuses and running out of the hospital wing, wands drawn. Lily was already halfway through the room, waking and preparing all patients for evacuation. Outside the door, people had begun to run up and down, shouting to each other. The ceiling above them began to crack and small bits of rock and dust were raining down on their heads as the assault on the wards continued.

A loud explosion could be heard elsewhere in the building and the sound of rocks crashing down reached the hospital wing.

Sirius, who had been pulled out of his seat and shoved towards the centre of the room with the rest of the patients, jumped out of the way when Lily cast a spell into his general direction and yelled something at Sybill, who had hurried into the little Healer's office next door. She came back almost immediately, carrying a bunch of old-fashioned key chains.

“Seven at a time!” she shrieked as she handed them out to the group of patients. “Seven!”

Tapping the first key chain with her wand, the seven people holding on to it disappeared. She was about to move on to the next group, when a large part of the room's back wall collapsed.

“Keep going!” Lily cried, throwing spell after spell towards the back wall and Sybill nodded hysterically, fidgeting with the remaining key chains in her arms.

“Seven! Seven at a time!”

Panic broke out when the first flash of green light shot through the room and hit one of the beds. It burst into flame and someone started screaming. Everyone started screaming.

Someone grabbed Sirius's arm and pulled him towards the door. He turned his head to see that it was Remus, who was clutching his wand with his other hand.

“We need to get out!” he shouted, stumbling along with a small group of people who were shoving towards the door. Sirius jerked his head around to see the gaping hole in wall at the far end and nodded. Somewhere, Lily was still yelling, trying to maintain enough order to evacuate as many people as possible. Sybill had burst out into tears and hurried past them, dropping the remaining key chains.

“ _Lily!_ What the hell are you doing?”

Sirius watched as James reappeared and made his way towards her, pushing people out of his way as he threw spells and curses at the first handful of intruders that had made it past the wards and were filling into the hospital wing from the other end.

“Lily, _get the fuck out of here!_ ” he roared, grabbing her arm and jerking her back. She shook him off and only just deflected a curse that came hurling her way.

“Don't fucking tell me what to do, Potter!” she yelled. “Or you're going to get us both killed!”

“Black! Lupin!”

Frank's voice from the door caused both men to turn around and they noticed that everyone else had left the room, apart from two people who lay motionless on the floor.

“And what about Lily an-” Remus began, but Frank had already pulled them out of the hospital wing. The corridor outside was littered with dust and bricks that had fallen down. On one end they could see nothing but flames and Frank shoved them into the opposite direction.

“They can take care of themselves! Run!” Frank yelled as he ran behind them. “We need to get everyone out. Turn right when you reach the end!”

Sirius was mildly surprised that he had the strength to run as fast as he did. When they had reached the corner, he looked back briefly to see James and Lily running not far behind them, throwing curses back over their shoulders every couple of steps.

“Lily, just run, okay?” James bellowed and Lily's next spell almost hit him in the face.

“Shut up and mind your own shit, Potter!”

“Come on!” Remus's urgent voice distracted Sirius and he let himself be dragged on, down a flight of stairs.

“There are more portkeys in the cellar,” Frank pressed out as he bombed their way through a partly collapsed bit of corridor. “They're assaulting us from two sides. This whole place is coming down in a matter of minutes, so you guys better hurry...” He pushed them through the opening and set after them. “I'll be turning left at the next corner; you just keep running straight ahead, all right? You can't miss it, someone should be there to see you off!”

“All right,” Sirius broke out, having more and more trouble breathing the longer they ran. The air was thick with smoke now and Sirius hoped his strength would last just a little longer, until they'd made it...

“Oi, Frank!” James's voice called from behind. “West wing?”

“West wing!” Frank roared back and slowed down as he approached the side corridor leading there. “Reckon Caradoc got his arse out in time?”

“He always does, doesn't he?” Lily panted as the two caught up with the other three. For being pregnant, Lily was surprisingly fast, Sirius thought.

James seemed to think along similar lines.

“Listen, grab the two and get yourselves out of here,” he told her, cutting her off before she could protest, which she was definitely about to. “No, Lily-”

“Don't thi-”

“FOR FUCK'S SAKE!” James yelled. “If you won't do it for me, do it for Harry!”

Lily glared daggers at James for a second, then swallowed and nodded reluctantly, a frustrated, yet fierce look on her flushed face.

“Fine,” she muttered, then looked up at James, her lips shaking. “You better not mess this up, Potter...”

James sighed with relief and kissed her before shoving her towards Remus and Sirius.

“See you later!”

“Yeah,” Lily breathed, turning towards the cellar, “See you l- _REDUCTO!_ ” She whirled around as the way ahead collapsed in front of her. “ _JAMES! THEY'RE COMING IN AT THIS SIDE, TOO!_ ” Looking at Sirius and Remus, she snarled. “Well, what're you waiting for? This way's blocked – _RUN!_ ”

Setting after the two men, they ran towards what had to be the west wing of the building. There had been fighting; the walls bore marks of errant spells and Sirius tried not to think about the dead bodies that lay in their way. He jumped over them as he ran, shutting out the horror of it with all his might.

The smell of fire lay ahead as well as behind them, but as long as they didn't reach any dead ends, Sirius reckoned they were fine, all things considered. He was running mindlessly after Frank, Remus always in the corner of his eye. They were reaching the end, soon, soon...

“Dead end,” James stated tonelessly, looking at the wall of fire behind the next corner. He turned to Frank and nodded at the ceiling. “On the count of three...”

They raised their wands.

The air outside was cold and fresh after the smoky corridors. Sirius heaved himself up through the hole, helped by Frank and Lily. Wands at the ready, they looked around.

The sky was beginning to lighten in the East; it must have been early morning by now. They stood at the edge of a forest, Sirius noticed, and what had been a fairly big house once was now a ruin. Fire and smoke obscured the scene to the biggest part, but as Sirius squinted, he could make out moving figures in the dark.

“Shit,” James pressed out when one of the figures yelled and a curse was sent in their direction. “Come on, into the forest. We need to get far enough to Apparate safely...”

He dragged Lily along with him as he ran towards the shelter of trees and bushes.

Sirius looked at Remus, who was holding his sides and seemed to be in considerable pain.

“Just a little bit longer,” he whispered urgently and Remus nodded, moving to follow James and Lily.

“BLACK!”

Sirius spun around at the voice he remembered too well and Frank's deflecting charm came just in time.

“What are you doing?” Frank snapped, pulling Sirius along into the bushes. “Are you insane? You're unarmed; James still has your wand!”

“That was Blishwick,” Sirius panted. “The bastard...”

“Who cares? Keep running! We're outnumbered at least twenty to one...”

They continued to make their way deeper into the woods, but soon had to realise that they were being followed. Sirius hadn't turned around, but he knew Augustus Blishwick was leading the pursuit. Only he had enough reason to persevere. Sirius tried to push the anger that rose within him from his mind and kept his eyes ahead, following the red flag that was Lily's hair as it billowed behind her. His heart sank when he realised that she was slowing down.

“Shit,” James cursed again. Before them, the ground simply _ended_ ; they were looking down a steep wall of rocks that went over a dozen feet down. Below, the ground was swampy and interspersed with puddles of muddy water.

Deflecting a curse, James whirled around and searched the forest around them for their pursuers. Two bolts of red light came flying in quick succession from two different places and James, Lily and Frank formed a defensive line in front of Sirius, who was still boiling with anger, and Remus, who was starting to look seriously ill.

Shouting a warning as a hooded figure materialised and cast a curse at them, Lily dove away to the left and Sirius pulled Remus into the other direction, out of harm's way. A moment later, Frank had engaged their attacker in a duel, while Lily and James were effectively forcing the other two out of hiding.

“This way,” Sirius nudged Remus and the made to disappear into a group of thick bushes.

“Going somewhere, Black?”

All Sirius could do was grab Remus's hand that was still holding the wand and wave it wildly, yelling the first Shielding Charm that came into his mind. The next thing he knew was both he and Remus were being blasted backwards and hit the ground hard. Scrambling to his feet Sirius picked up Remus's wand and hurled a curse at Blishwick, missing him by well over an inch. His aim had been better.

“This is between you and me, Blishwick,” he snarled when he only just so deflected a hex that was aimed at Remus. The other man sneered, but the next spell came flying at Sirius again, who did his best to subtly direct the ensuing duel away from Remus so the other man could take cover somewhere.

It wasn't until he saw Blishwick's gaze flicker past him that Sirius looked around. Jumping aside and dodging Blishwick's Stunning Spell, he could feel a numbness in his left arm where it hit him in the very same moment in which he cast a Disarming Spell behind himself, where Bellatrix stood on a small rock, pointing her wand at Remus.

She deflected the spell easily, but blind fury was written on her face when she looked at Sirius, whose one arm was hanging limply by his side.

“How dare you?” she screamed, “Treacherous disgrace to the name of Black!”

Sirius snarled as he put his entire force into deflecting her next curse, falling to his knees and noticing only then that someone else had shielded him from the spell Blishwick had cast behind his back. He turned his head and saw James step up next to Remus, wand outstretched. He easily cast off Blishwick's next two curses, iron determination etched into his features. His spell hit Blishwick square in the chest and blasted him off his feet.

When James turned around to face Bellatrix, Sirius knew he would be just a second too late.

James's arm was an inch away from where it should have been when the red light came flying his way. Sirius snapped his arm up and tried to shoot the curse out of the air, but knew he would miss. He could see a blur of movement that was Remus, who looked like he might be throwing himself in front of James, but...

In an eruption of sparks, Bellatrix's curse was thrown off course just enough to rush past James and Remus's bodies. It hit the ground and sent earth flying.

“You foul creature,” Bellatrix hissed at Remus, who was clutching Sirius's wand that had been sticking out of James's robes. “You dare wield a wizard's wand!”

She didn't get around to casting her next curse; Sirius's spell hit her with full force. Howling, she was thrown back against a tree and collapsed to the ground with a yell of fury. She didn't bother getting up; she hurled the red bolt of light at Sirius before she had even scrambled to all fours.

As he flew backwards through the air, Sirius thought he could hear Remus scream, Blishwick sneer and Bellatrix screech that he was no longer a part of the House of Black. More spells were thrown, someone Disapparated, someone was running; someone, it seemed, was falling to the ground with a sickening thud.

Crying out in pain as he hit the floor yet again, Sirius tried to blink the stars away that appeared before his eyes. No sound reached his ears; it was deafeningly silent. Shaking his head he struggled to his feet, swaying and grabbing around for support, his vision zooming in and out of focus. The distant sounds of feet running across the forest ground reached his mind, and before he could turn his head to look he was being pulled into a crushing embrace.

“You're alive,” he heard a choked voice at his ear and Sirius dropped his wand in shock, unsure what to do with his hands. His arms full of Remus, he looked past him and saw James standing over the motionless form of Augustus Blishwick, a hard expression on his face as he pried the wand out from between the man's lifeless fingers. Lily, looking slightly rugged, but otherwise all right, stepped up to James and took his hand. Frank sank to his knees, head in his hands. Bellatrix was gone.

Sirius realised he was crying.

***

Drifting in and out of sleep, Sirius kept telling himself that they were somewhere safe now. They had Apparated. There had been a Healer who had fed them potions, given them new clothes and patched up their scars before showing them a place to sleep. There was not a lot of space, and the mattress was as old as the blanket was thin. But it was safe.

Sirius didn't want to open his eyes, he was too tired. Remus's face was inches away from his, he knew. He was asleep and his calm breath brushed softly over the tip of Sirius's nose. Their hands were intertwined between their bodies and Sirius, drowsy with sleep, edged a little closer.

 _I love you_ , he thought as he fell back into deep, dreamless sleep, _I really do. It's all that’s left of me._

***

When Sirius opened his eyes, the space next to him was empty. He blinked to see the pensive, concerned face of Madam Pomfrey, the Healer, and the grim expression of James Potter, who stood next to her.

“Thank you, Poppy,” James turned to the woman and nodded. “I'll be taking him.”

Madam Pomfrey regarded Sirius with a last thoughtful gaze, then nodded reluctantly and turned away. Sirius frowned in confusion, but James spoke before he could.

“You'll have to come with me, Black,” he said, sounding as if he'd rather be doing something else. “Someone wants to see you.”

“Where's Remus?” Sirius asked as he sat up. “And who wants to see me?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” James replied after a moment's pause. “Better not let him wait.”

“What does he want from me?” Sirius asked as he slid into a pair of robes that had been laid out for him. James motioned him to follow as they left the improvised hospital wing that was far less crowded now than it had been upon their arrival.

“We are packing up,” James said curtly and Sirius could hear the anger and frustration underneath the other man's calm composure. “Now that we've lost our three main posts in Britain, Dumbledore has given orders for us to move our troops back to the continent. Looks like we'll have to go back into proper hiding until things have calmed down.”

They were walking down a long, windowless corridor and Sirius wondered whether they were underground. The air was cool and it was very quiet. He hadn't paid the place much attention when they'd arrived; he'd been too exhausted and too upset to care, but now he thought it was unsettlingly much like a tomb.

“What does that have to do with me?” Sirius asked, confused, and James regarded him with a short sideways glance.

“You'll be offered protection.” He paused. “We can see how you are, in a way, a victim of circumstances. But you're still wanted for murder, Black. They're after you as much as they're after me now, or Lily, or everyone else, for that matter. Dumbledore has means of keeping everyone safe and hidden.”

Sirius stopped and looked at James, who reluctantly came to a halt as well and turned around, his face blank.

“Where's Remus?”

James took a deep breath and met Sirius's gaze. His voice was quiet, but resolute.

“He was moved a couple of hours ago.” He turned to walk on, but Sirius stood thunderstruck, feeling as if cold water was being poured down his neck.

“He's gone...”

James pressed his lips together, not looking up this time.

“Yes.”

When Sirius didn't look like he was going to go one step further, James sighed, looking up and down the empty corridor before stepping up to Sirius.

“Look,” he said. “I'm not sure what you thought would happen...” He paused. “You're no longer Lord Black, and he's no longer your nameless animal; things have changed. Did you think it was going to go back to what it used to be? That he'd return as your valet-”

“I thought,” Sirius interrupted hollowly, “that maybe I'd get to say goodbye.” He glanced up into James's eyes. “I'm not sure what I thought...”

James stepped back, not looking at Sirius.

“We're fighting a war,” he said tonelessly. “There are rules. I was under orders.”

He pointed down the corridor and continued to walk.

After couple of seconds, Sirius followed him silently. As they turned a corner, Lily came storming their way, slamming a door behind her and wiping her face with a furious expression. She slowed down for a moment when she saw James and Sirius, then shook her head and snorted in frustration. James looked like he wanted to say something, but she jerked her head and continued to stomp in the other direction.

“We have to disappear,” James muttered, sounding every bit as displeased as Lily looked. “At least until the baby's born. Frank and his wife as well. No contact, no communication, no nothing, not even among each other. We'll be perfectly useless.”

Sirius's expression remained unmoved. James inhaled shakily and composed himself. He glanced at Sirius with a strange expression.

“He didn't want to leave, you know.” His voice was very quiet and he laughed bitterly. “But he didn't have a choice. None of us do, really.”

“I suppose not,” Sirius muttered and James cleared his throat.

“You didn't wake up when he left because you'd been given a potion against nightmares, to stop you from shaking. He... he refused to leave at first. He had the guts to yell at Dumbledore... Lily was furious as well...”

Sirius didn't show any signs of reaction, so James sighed and motioned towards a door at the end of the corridor that Lily had come through. Nodding tiredly, Sirius walked past him and knocked. A calm voice told him to enter.

“Have a seat, Mr Black.”

Albus Dumbledore looked nothing like Sirius had imagined. He had seen old pictures of a man with a long, grey-white beard in the Prophet, but he hadn't expected his eyes to be quite so blue, his demeanour quite so intimidating, so stern.

“I trust you know why you are here, Mr Black.”

“Yes,” Sirius replied, clearing his throat. “You're retreating.”

“I'm afraid I have no choice in the matter,” Dumbledore said. His wand lay before him on his desk and he pondered it warily. “Peter Pettigrew escaped. We have sent warnings to all our outposts, but we cannot guess at how much confidential information he has passed on. There is no safety left that we can count on.” He eyed Sirius, who sat mutely, listening. “I understand that we owe the knowledge of Mr Pettigrew's betrayal partly to you, Mr Black. And while I see that you have suffered greatly at our hands, perhaps you will consider accepting my apologies and an offer of protection.”

Sirius swallowed, but couldn't seem to find anything to say. Dumbledore continued.

“I am afraid that returning to your life will prove impossible for you, Mr Black.” He sounded sympathetic, but not actually sad about it. “It appears that your cousin Bellatrix Lestrange has taken action against you and proclaimed you a traitor to your family. You have been disowned by the Noble House of Black, and I am informed your brother Regulus has taken up residence at Black Manor by order of the Dark Lord. Your mother,” he added hesitantly, “has publicly renounced you as her son. You are therefore no longer entitled to any of the privileges the name of Black bears, neither social nor financial.”

Sirius stared straight at the table top, trying to keep his breath from shaking.

“What about the wedding?” he asked dully, feeling slightly ridiculous about it. Dumbledore nodded, as if he had forgot to mention it.

“Your engagement to Octavia Blishwick was broken by the lady herself at the news of her brother's death, which you are unfortunately officially held responsible for. As Lady Octavia is now her father's only remaining heiress, she has had announced that she no longer wishes to bind herself in marriage.”

Listening silently, Sirius pressed his lips together.

“So I am being charged for two murders I haven't committed. And my family has cast me out and declared me a disgrace. I'm left alone without money, without status, without any chance of a future.” He voice sounded hollow.

Dumbledore cast his eyes down.

“I can offer you shelter from prosecution, Mr Black,” he repeated. “You would lead an isolated and rather unspectacular life, I'm afraid, but you would be safe. At this point, you should find it is the best, if not the only option you have, considering that, unless I am misinformed, you are alone and on your own...”

Sirius stared at him with a hardened expression.

“I wasn't alone yesterday.”

Dumbledore sighed quietly.

“I know what you're thinking. You would not be the first to disagree with me today.”

“I wonder why that is,” Sirius suddenly snapped. “There you are, calmly telling me straight to my face how I have nothing left in life, not even the one person that honestly cared for me and that _you_ decided to take away from me. And then you graciously offer to save me? Have you, just for one second, _considered_ any of the people whose life you decide on so readily? Have you given it one, tiny fragment of thought what it is they might want, you sanctimonious bastard?”

Dumbledore's voice was calm, but hard as steel underneath when he answered.

“I have, Mr Black, whether you believe it or not.” He leaned back in his chair. “I have also made the experience that what people _want_ is not necessarily what is good for them. I am trying to save lives. Look at James and Lily,” he added before Sirius could object. “I have had her yell at me for the better part of an hour because I demanded she and James go into hiding. She would rather risk her life and the life of her child for this cause.” He paused. “They have been fighting all their lives, Mr Black, and they would continue to do so, come what may. Does that mean I am wrong to force them to think of their own safety for a change? Of their child's safety? I can tell you, they'll get over it. You have lost everything and I offer you something akin to a new life, a life of safety, with prospects of a future. I offered the same to Remus Lupin. That is my priority.”

Sirius was quiet for a moment, then bit his lip.

“You wouldn't even let me say goodbye to him.”

“Would it have made it easier?”

“I gave up everything,” Sirius hissed stubbornly, anger rising within him. “For him. How dare you...”

“Pardon me, Mr Black,” Dumbledore interrupted, his voice firm. “But I daresay you are blurring the facts. From what I gather, you were not at all aware of what you were giving up at the time. It seems to me,” he added pointedly, “as if you never wanted anything other than save your own skin best as possible. The fact that you... felt attached to Mr Lupin might have influenced your decisions to a point, but don't try to fool me or yourself by pretending that you were aware of what was at stake or that you deliberately sacrificed it.”

Sirius glared at the old wizard, clenching his jaw in frustration. Dumbledore's blue eyes were holding him transfixed and he couldn't seem to come up with anything in return. After a long moment of icy silence, Dumbledore cleared his throat and his tone became faintly pleasant again.

“I offer to put you under the protection of the Fidelius Charm,” he said matter-of-factly. “I myself would be your Secret Keeper. You would not live alone; you would be assigned a companion, or perhaps two, to keep you company and to help you in case of injury, sickness or emergency. Your life would be inconspicuous, as free of magic as possible. You would be allowed to interact with strangers, but not attract their close attention. Any charm can be broken if caution is thrown to the wind,” he emphasised and looked at Sirius intently. “As it happens, your uncle, Alphard Black, left a generous amount of money at my disposal...”

Sirius looked up.

“Alphard left his money to some illegitimate child of his,” he replied. “In Sweden.”

“Indeed, he did,” Dumbledore nodded. “I have been in personal contact with the family ever since I went into exile and they agreed to raise Frank Longbottom after his parents’ deaths. Alphard set aside money in case any other member of his family ever fell from grace and needed it. I was trusted with this money.” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “Your cousin Andromeda and her husband...” - Sirius's head snapped up and Dumbledore smiled faintly - “...were the only ones to ever need this kind of support. They live in the Netherlands now and get along rather well on their own devices, together with their little daughter.” He paused. “There is more than enough of Alphard's money left. Of course, it could not sustain you forever...”

“I suppose not,” Sirius muttered and Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“You would have to earn at least part of a living-”

“Doing what?” Sirius laughed humourlessly. “It's not like anything I know will help me much in the Muggle world, will it?”

“That is true,” Dumbledore admitted. “However, considering your... qualifications and experience with financial matters, I might be able to offer you employment...”

“I'm not going to join your rebellion,” Sirius replied.

“You don't have to.”

“Then what is it you're asking?”

Dumbledore made a sweeping gesture.

“As fate will have it, there are a number of small – really small – businesses all over Europe that supply our movement's endeavours with necessary resources,” Dumbledore explained. “Food, potions supplies, money. I cannot lead this organisation if I cannot feed, clothe and accommodate people. Supplies need to come from somewhere, as you might very well figure. I offer you work as an accountant.”

Sirius glared at him, but Dumbledore didn't seem fazed. In fact, he looked rather serious.

“You have experience with money,” he continued. “I believe sorting out financial matters for those businesses should prove no difficulty for you. You take care of taxes, investments and similar things. I daresay you will be able to make more profit than we can currently boast with. Be what you used to be, just for a different cause. This is my offer.”

Sirius was chewing his lip, contemplating the option and trying to ignore the fact that the last thing he wanted was to please Albus Dumbledore.

“I'm not sure I can.”

“It is our belief, Mr Black, that people can be whatever they want to be.” For the first time, Dumbledore looked something akin to friendly, and Sirius pondered him for a moment before shaking his head, a bitter smile on his face.

“No,” he replied. “It is your belief that people can be whatever _you_ want them to be.”

Dumbledore held his gaze for a moment, then blinked tiredly.

“Your friend Mr Lupin fought with more vigour.”

Sirius averted his eyes, trying to focus on his shaking fingers instead of the tight feeling in his throat. His gaze fell on a pile of files from which Dumbledore picked up the topmost one and opened it. Sirius caught a glance of his own name scribbled on top of what looked like a hospital record, cut-outs from newspapers, reports. He looked away when he spotted Remus’s name and blinked back the tears that stung in his eyes.

“Will you,” he cleared his throat, not looking up. “Will you let me write? Just one letter.” He swallowed and noticed how Dumbledore shifted in his seat, gaze firmly set on Sirius. “I... I just want... There are things I want to say.”

Dumbledore contemplated him for what seemed a very long time, then closed the file after one last, long glance.

“I’m afraid,” he began and Sirius closed his eyes, “That I won’t, Mr Black.”

Sirius nodded, refusing to acknowledge the tear that ran down his face. He took a deep breath and blinked, faintly aware of how Dumbledore eventually opened a drawer of his desk. He threw Sirius another look and seemed to hesitate, his gaze resting on the medical report. His hand hovered in the air for a moment, before he closed the drawer again and opened another one, pulling out an empty picture frame and a small, folded piece of parchment. Placing both on the desk in front of him, he cleared his throat.

“This is a Portkey to a hidden house somewhere in rural England. You'll only be using magic if absolutely necessary. There will be an owl that will know how to find both me and you. Your wand will be delivered by that same owl tonight. You will correspond weekly and inform me of anything that is going on in your life. The same will apply to your fellow refugee. Take your time to settle in and consider my offer regarding your employment.” He looked up and fixated Sirius with his gaze. “That's it. Take it or leave it, Mr Black.”

For a minute, Sirius sat motionless, pondering the two objects on the table. Eventually, he looked up at Dumbledore and nodded, unable to speak. He grabbed the folded piece of parchment and opened it. An address was scribbled onto it. He stretched out his hand and touched the empty picture frame.

*

When he could feel solid ground beneath his feet again, Sirius opened his eyes. All he could see was grey stone walls all around him. There was no window, only a heavy door with a small, barred opening through which faint light fell into the chamber.

Sirius took a step forward and the rattling of chains rang through the room as his foot touched something on the floor. He bent down to see that it was shackles that were fixed to one of the walls. Panic began to spread from somewhere deep down in his gut.

Stumbling away from the chains on the floor, Sirius threw himself at the thick door, pushing hard. It didn't move. A mad gasp of disbelief escaped his throat and he began to rattle at the iron handle.

“No,” he burst out, wondering how he could have been so gullible, so utterly...

Pressing down the handle all the way, Sirius tore at it with the full weight of his body and to his surprise it opened with a creak. There was a heavy bolt on the outside, but it was not drawn across. The door hadn't been locked at all, he noticed, feeling strangely disappointed as the adrenaline rush suddenly subsided.

Sirius stepped out of the room and dragged the door shut behind himself. He covered his face with both hands and told himself to calm down. Looking around now he saw what appeared to be a normal cellar with shelves for storage and a number of Muggle contraptions he didn’t recognise. A small staircase led up to an ordinary door that was not locked, either.

He entered into a small alcove next to the entrance door. Coat hooks were nailed to the other side of the cellar door and the alcove was flooded with light coming from the room it led into.

Hesitantly, Sirius stepped into what looked like half kitchen, half living room. There was a table and two chairs, a rather mouldy looking couch, and a small kitchen counter at the far end wall. To both its sides, doors led into adjacent rooms. Sirius couldn't help thinking back to his office at Black Manor, the polished table, the heavy oak door and the marble tiles on the floor.

Taking a couple of steps into the middle of the room, Sirius looked around, stopping dead in his movements when he beheld the tall figure standing by one of the windows. His breath caught in his throat and he stumbled back a step, glad when he hit the wall and desperately grabbed it for support.

Remus's green eyes were wide as he took a tentative step towards Sirius.

It was quiet and dust was dancing in the afternoon light. Sirius stared at Remus, terrified to find him nothing but an apparition, nothing but a figment of his imagination. If he disappeared before his eyes, Sirius thought he might die.

“I can't believe it's really you,” Remus croaked, breaking the silence, and Sirius shook his head in disbelief as he moved a step closer. Blinded by the sunlight that fell in through the window, Sirius brushed his fingertips along the line of Remus's jaw. Remus shivered and exhaled shakily, releasing the breath he'd been holding. When he lifted a hand to touch Sirius's hair, Sirius could smell a familiar scent. A soft smile spread across his face.

“Neither can I,” he breathed, tracing the line of Remus’s lips as they moved closer, slowly, slowly, and Sirius closed his eyes.

***

Hundreds of miles away, the sound of flat heels echoed through the empty, dark halls of Grimmauld Place as a young man made his way up the staircase, his dark robes billowing behind his slender legs. He looked straight ahead, his face expressionless when he opened a door and entered the spacious library. As he strode down the aisle between the high shelves filled with books, the thin, haggard figure standing at the other end turned around, her voice smooth as velvet.

“I almost thought you were going to be late.”

“Always on time, mother,” the young man replied, eyes sparkling in the dim light that fell through the tall windows. The woman smiled as he kissed her hand, then turned her head back at the tapestry she had been looking at before his arrival. Her eyes rested on her own name in its place on the ancient family tree, and the two lines that led from it. Her lips twisted into a tight line when she saw the faint, golden thread that connected her late husband’s name with every member that had ever held the title Head of the House of Black before him. Then she contemplated the name the line currently ended with, inscribed right beneath her own.

She lifted her wand. Next to her, Regulus shifted slightly.

A moment later mother and son watched quietly how the golden line retreated and began to wind itself along the only branch and name that now remained next to a charred, black hole in the wall.


	9. Epilogue (Lux Aeterna)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** for character deaths (all of which are canonical at this point in time, though).

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black officially died out in the male line with Regulus Black's suicide in 1986.

His mother Walburga Black died on St. Mungo's Hospital's closed ward for mental illnesses upon hearing the news of her younger son's death.

Bellatrix Lestrange was declared heiress to the House of Black and acted as the head of the family until the beginning of the revolution in 1997.

She and her husband Rodolphus were sentenced to a life in Azkaban after the fall of the Dark Lord in 1998. Among the charges brought forth against Bellatrix during her trials was the torturing and subsequent killing of twelve werewolves, at the time owned and employed by her deceased cousin Sirius Black. While no formal diagnosis of her mental state could ever be made, the prison guards described her as 'violent and delusional to a point of insanity' to the investigators after she had starved herself to death in 2001.

 

*

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin lived together under the protection of the Fidelius Charm for nine and a half years. They never separated.

On October 21st 1990, Sirius passed away in his sleep at the age of 31. From the diary kept by Remus it was concluded that Sirius had died of a hereditary blood disease that had manifested itself in tremors and early signs of dementia already by the end of 1985. He remained convicted of murder until his name was posthumously cleared in 1998.

On November 3rd 1990, eleven days after Sirius's funeral, Remus Lupin was found dead in their house, having bled to death from wounds inflicted on himself during his full moon transformation.

In accordance with their joint will, drafted three years prior, they were laid to rest together in one grave. Their headstone remains to this day:

 

  
SIRIUS ORION BLACK & REMUS JOHN LUPIN  
* 15. 11. 1959          * 10. 3. 1960  
\+ 21. 10. 1990         + 3. 11. 1990

\- United for good by the madness within. -

 

THE END


End file.
